


Knock Me Down

by haligh24



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, No Strings Attached, Office Sex, Slow Burn, design agency au, lol jk there are strings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haligh24/pseuds/haligh24
Summary: Clarke Griffin couldn’t stop thinking about the sad, mysterious woman who had recently become a regular at her favorite bar. And when that woman turned out to be Alexandria Heda, CEO of Trikru Media (aka her new boss), Clarke realized that she was totally and completely fucked.





	1. Chapter 1

The whole thing was a fluke, actually; Clarke Griffin did not, as a rule, buy drinks for strangers. Especially not lately, when she was still reeling from a breakup. She had done her fair share of flirting in bars over the years, sure, but she was rarely the instigator. It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t enjoy sex (she really did) - and being in a relationship was  _ fine _ (except for when it wasn’t) - she just usually had other things on her mind.  But that night, an unseasonably warm one for Washington, DC in January, Clarke found herself asking a surly bartender about the drinking habits of a lonely-looking woman.

 

“Thanks again - for everything," Clarke said, flashing the bartender a tight smile to mask both her nerves and annoyance. 

 

The bartender, who was not at all friendly and barely helpful, offered nothing more than a smirk before turning away. Clarke nodded to herself, forcing a puff of air past her lips, and turned to make sure the woman - Lexa, the bartender had said - was still at the other end of the bar. 

 

Lexa was there, sitting primly on one of The Wonderland Ballroom’s spectacularly ramshackle bar stools. She looked entirely out of place in the dingy bar, dressed impeccably in a crisp tailored button down and charcoal pants that probably cost more than Clarke’s weekly pay. Clarke had noticed her several times over the past few months; it seemed like she was always reading some thick, vaguely academic-looking book or another, and usually drinking steadily. Lexa was gorgeous - her face an enticing combination of sharp angles and soft planes, with piercing eyes and lips frozen in an undeviating pout. 

 

Clarke approached the other woman slowly, conscious of the very full beer in her left hand and the fact that she wasn’t  _ exactly _ sober. She perched on the stool next to Lexa, pushing a glass of whiskey into the woman’s periphery.

 

"Hi," she said, “It’s Lexa, right?”

 

Lexa glanced up from her book for just a moment, not even meeting Clarke’s eyes, before dropping her eyes to flicker back and forth across the page for a few more seconds. Finally, she slid her hand over the pages and let the book fall closed on top of her fingers. She looked at the whiskey before tilting her head up to study Clarke. 

 

“Hello,” Lexa spoke quietly, her voice pitched higher than Clarke was expecting.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Clarke gestured toward the book.

 

“Then what did you intend to do?” Lexa asked evenly after a long beat, not returning Clarke’s smile.

 

“I just-” Clarke faltered, taking a moment to push a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she struggled to answer the blunt question, “I’ve seen you here, a few times now, and I thought I’d say hi.”

 

“Oh,” Lexa’s eyes narrowed in confusion as Clarke took a quick sip of her beer.

 

“It’s, you know, kind of a standard method of flirting. I buy you a drink, we make small talk, I ask you out…”

 

Clarke winced at the sound of her own voice pathetically trailing off. God, she was shitty at this. She used to at least have confidence when it came to this sort of thing, the talking-to-beautiful-strangers-in-bars thing _ ,  _ but lately it felt just out of reach. Lexa, again, glanced down at the whiskey and took her time responding.

 

“I see.”

 

Clarke nodded her head a few more times, at a loss for what else to say, “So, I guess you’re not interested then?” 

 

"No," Lexa replied, and it didn’t sound cruel, exactly- just cold. Very cold.

 

"Wow." Clarke hadn’t even meant to say it; the word slipped out in her exhale. It seemed to spark something in Lexa, though, and the other woman’s eyes widened as she quickly flipped her book over to mark her page before sliding it out of the way. Both hands now free, she turned more fully to face Clarke.

 

“No, I,” Lexa started and stopped, seeming to struggle with her words, “It's not you, really. It’s-”

 

“Yeah, you can stop right there. I’ve heard that one before,” Clarke sighed, her face warming with embarrassment, “I  _ am _ sorry for bothering you. I should’ve realized - I mean, you never interrupt a woman while she’s reading. Obviously, right? Anyway, please - enjoy the drink.”

 

Clarke couldn’t quite manage to look Lexa in the eye, but she did attempt a smile in the other woman’s general direction. She lifted her glass in a mock toast as she swiveled on the stool, intending to quietly slink back to the other side of the bar and do her best to forget this conversation ever happened. 

 

“No, wait,” Lexa’s fingertips were on Clarke’s shoulder for a split second before she pulled them back, twisting her hands together tensely, “I'm sorry, you seem... Nice. But I am- I’m not. I’m just… not.”

 

“Listen,” Clarke tried to smile, “you  _ really _ don't have to explain anything to me.”

 

“I'm married.” The words tumbled out of Lexa’s mouth, and she looked just as shocked by them as Clarke was. 

 

“Oh, I-” Clarke stammered, watching Lexa pick up her glass and take a long pull of whiskey, “Jesus. I'm sorry - I didn't see a ring, and I've noticed you here before, but you're always alone. But, anyway, I'm gonna go. Ok? I'm really,  _ really _ sorry.”

 

“No,” Lexa’s brow furrowed, “It's not - she's dead. My wife. She died.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“So, you seem nice, but I'm not. I don't-” Lexa shook her head, “You seem nice, but my wife has been dead for one year, five months, and twelve days, and I have been very little use, socially, to anyone since that moment. I don’t do... friends, or small talk. Or dates.”

 

Clarke opened her mouth to respond, before realizing that she had no idea what on Earth to say. She felt sober then, but the edges of her brain were fuzzy in a different way. Lexa stared down into her glass, watching the amber whiskey swirl around and around, her lips pursed.

 

“Oh. Okay.” 

 

Clarke cringed as soon as the words left her mouth, internally berating herself.  _ Okay? _ The woman told her that she’s a fucking  _ widow _ and Clarke could only think to say, “ _ Okay.”  _ For fuck’s sake. Ever since her dad died Clarke had a thing about empty condolences, but she usually managed better than “ _ okay.” _ She was off-balance, that was all. Thrown by the alcohol, and the weight of this staccato conversation, and the red-tinted light barely dusting the room, and probably a hundred other things. They were both quiet for a long few moments - Lexa still gazing down into her glass and Clarke trying to figure out how she could salvage the conversation.

 

“You didn't say sorry, about my wife. Most people say sorry,” Lexa did not make eye contact as she brought the half-full glass back up to her lips and took another long sip.

 

“No,” Clarke agreed, and Lexa finally looked up, “Did you want me to?”

 

Lexa stared at Clarke, really  _ looked _ at her for the first time since Clarke had approached, and it suddenly seemed very dangerous - the way Lexa slowly lowered her glass and shook her head, never breaking eye contact. Lexa swallowed her whiskey, finally, and Clarke had to quickly gulp down another pull of beer just so she would stop studying the way the muscles in Lexa’s throat worked around the bourbon. 

 

“Well, for not having friends, the bartender seems to like you well enough. She told me your drink,” Clarke babbled, “and your name.”

 

“Anya,” Lexa’s eyes flicked past Clarke toward the bartender, “She's stubborn. And meddlesome.”

 

_ Meddlesome.  _ Something about the word, particularly the way Lexa said it, tickled Clarke, and she stifled a chuckle with another sip of beer. At that, Lexa turned her attention sharply back to Clarke, an expectant look on her face.

 

“Sorry,” Clarke’s smile slipped, “Just,  _ meddlesome _ , it sounded... funny.”

 

Lexa, apparently, didn’t appreciate the humor; she just kept staring at Clarke as though she was a book written in some lost, foreign language. The music seemed to get louder as their silence stretched, and Clarke got lost for a moment in the twang of Ryan Adams’ voice.  _ Come pick me up. Take me out. Fuck me up. Steal my records. _

 

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Clarke asked finally.

 

Lexa broke their eye contact to stare down into her glass, and Clarke willed herself not to care about the other woman’s response. She  _ did care _ though, for some absolutely insane reason, and when Lexa lifted her gaze once more there was a steely resolve in place. Before Lexa even opened her mouth, Clarke knew that  _ whatever-this-is _ was over.

 

“You should.”

 

Clarke nodded because,  _ yeah _ , she really probably should. She wasn’t sure what more to say, so she just flashed Lexa a small, self-deprecating smile as she slid off the barstool.

 

“Thank you,” Lexa blurted out, her composure slipping for the first time, “For the bourbon, I mean.”

 

There was another long moment where Clarke wondered if Lexa would say more, but then the other woman gave a terse nod and it felt like a period at the end of her sentence. 

 

“Of course,” Clarke replied easily, “Consider it repayment for interrupting your reading.”

 

Lexa drew her lips together tightly. It was the closest thing to a smile she had yet to see on the other woman’s face, but something about it made Clarke’s chest ache. Lexa swiveled back to face the bar, flipped her book over, and didn’t look back at Clarke again. Except for the addition of the glass of whiskey on the bar, Lexa looked completely unaffected by an encounter that had rattled Clarke.

 

Clarke fought the urge to physically shake her head to clear out the past few minutes as she stood on unsteady legs. She settled on taking a very deep breath as she made her way across the room, exhaling the words neither of them said. Halfway back to her table, the bartender, Anya, caught her eye with a small wave and beckoned her over.

 

Clarke approached, confused, as Anya held up a bottle for her to look at.

 

“You like Jameson?”

 

“Sure, I guess,” Clarke shrugged, her brow furrowing, “Why?”

 

“Shot,” Anya explained shortly, setting up two glasses, “It’s on me.”

 

Clarke set her beer down on the bartop and watched Anya expertly pour out a couple of shots, filling the glasses to the brim. She slid one toward Clarke and picked up her own, holding it out for a toast. Clarke, dazed by the turn of events, did her best to quickly reciprocate before knocking back the shot. 

 

It burned. Wow, it  _ really _ burned. Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she’d done a shot of straight whiskey, but she did not recall it being this awful. She knew she was probably making a horrible, sour face, but she couldn’t help it. She downed several gulps of beer before her gag reflex was good and suppressed. Anya, however, actually  _ laughed _ , seeming unfazed by the alcohol and acting like much less of an angry robot than she had been during their first encounter.

 

“You alright there, blondie?”

 

“It’s just been a while,” Clarke told her sheepishly before drinking deeply from her glass.

 

“Next time I’ll mix you up something a little more your speed,” Anya was still smiling.

 

“I’m fine,” Clarke said quickly, defensively, and finished off her drink, “I’ll take another beer, though.”

 

“You got it.”

 

Clarke watched as the other woman moved fluidly behind the bar, seeming to glide to exactly the right spot. Her hands were swift and sure as she pulled the tap, every movement purposeful and elegant. 

 

“So what was that for, anyway?” Clarke swallowed, trying to ignore the acrid feeling of whiskey in her stomach.

 

“Oh, just trying to assuage my guilt,” Anya sighed as she topped off Clarke’s new beer.

 

Clarke narrowed her eyes at the bartender, an unspoken question.

 

“I should have warned you about Lexa,” Anya explained as she presented Clarke with her beer, sliding the old glass away, “It looked a little rough over there.”

 

“Oh,” Clarke frowned, “So you guys  _ are _ friends?”

 

Anya paused, shrugged, “Ish.”

 

“Is she-” Clarke resisted the urge to glance over at Lexa, “Is she okay?”

 

Anya stared at her for a beat before asking, “What did she tell you?”

 

“Nothing too specific,” Clarke was quick to explain, “She mentioned her wife, though.”

 

“Did she?” Anya glanced over at Lexa for a moment before bringing her gaze back to Clarke.

 

“Uh, yeah.” 

 

Anya nodded, still studying Clarke intently, “What’s your name?”

 

“Clarke,” she responded after a moment’s hesitation, surprised by the question.

 

“Clarke, I think I owe you another shot,” Anya sighed, “Will a second one kill you?”

 

Clarke frowned, offended, “Hit me.”

 

Amusement played across Anya’s face as she lined up the shot glasses again.

 

“She doesn’t talk about her wife much. Or ever, really,” Anya mentioned, not making eye contact as she poured the shots.

 

“‘Talked about’ is kind of a stretch,” Clarke offered, keeping her hands busy by wiping at the condensation on her beer glass.

 

“If she said the words ‘wife’ and ‘dead,’ then yeah - that’s more than I’ve ever heard her say to anyone else,” Anya slid the new shot toward Clarke.

 

Clarke nodded her thanks and picked up the glass, holding it toward the bartender, “What’s this one to?”

 

Anya stared at her and Clarke fought the urge to look away. It felt too intense, especially after her conversation with Lexa.

 

“To you, Clarke,” Anya said finally, smirking dryly.

 

She lifted her glass and Clarke gave her a proper toast, careful not to spill any liquor as the glasses kissed. This shot went down a lot smoother than the first, which should have been an obvious sign that Clarke was rapidly getting drunk.

 

Clarke looked up at Anya, another question about Lexa on the tip of her tongue, but Anya wasn’t even looking at her. She was looking at Lexa, who, in turn, was staring at the two of them from her spot in the corner.

 

“You good on beer?” Anya questioned, her eyes only glancing back to Clarke for a second.

 

“Yup,” Clarke nodded, getting up, “Yeah, I’m great.”

 

Clarke slid off her stool, but, by the time she was steady on her feet and ready to thank Anya for the drinks, the bartender was halfway down the bar to Lexa. Clarke swallowed her words, embarrassed for the umpteenth time in the past 15 minutes. She slunk back to her table, finally, and found Octavia watching her.

 

“I thought you were gonna call Lincoln,” Clarke glared as she sat back down.

 

“I did,” Octave smiled a cheshire cat grin, “but he made me hang up because I was too distracted by watching you and the mystery woman.”

 

Clarke groaned and slumped forward onto the table, her head resting in her arms.

 

“So,” Octavia’s voice dripped with amusement, “crash and burn, huh?”

 

“Yup,” Clarke agreed into her arms.

 

Octavia grabbed Clarke’s forearm, “Hey kiddo, it happens to the best of us.”

 

“Oh god, stop gloating - just say it.”

 

“Clarke, I’m hurt,” the smirk was very evident in Octavia’s voice, “Here I am, trying to be a supportive friend, and you think the worst of me.”

 

Clarke finally raised her head and sat up, pulling out of Octavia’s grasp. She had to give Octavia some credit, at least her friend was attempting to keep a straight face.

 

“O, you can just say it, I know you want to. I mean, the woman actually tried to use the  _ ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ _ line, so just fucking get it over with and say it.”

 

“She didn’t!” Octavia exclaimed gleefully, then after just half a beat, “Oh my god, I told you so!”

 

Clark sighed in response and fell back against the creaky hardwood of their booth, “Yes, you did. Now let’s move on.”

 

“No way, you have to tell me everything.”

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it, okay? Can we just not tonight?”

 

Octavia pouted, but didn’t press for details immediately, “Well, how about the bartender? She’s hot, and I saw you guys do shots. Which, by the way, how old are we?”

 

“She offered,” Clarke shrugged, turning to seek out Anya. The bartender was still over by Lexa, leaning across the bar to talk to her.

 

“I’ll bet she did.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Clarke was still watching the other women, trying to get a handle on the night.

 

“You’re no fun,” Clarke knew Octavia was pouting again without even looking back across the table at her.

 

“O,” she sighed, “Please, can we drop it? For now, at least? It was a really strange, intense conversation and I feel weird talking about it with you right now.”

 

“Sorry,” Octavia’s apology was reflexive, but Clarke knew her well enough to know that didn’t mean it wasn’t genuine.

 

“Lincoln says hi, by the way,” Octavia added after a moment.

 

Clarke smiled, “When’s he coming to visit next?”

 

“Weekend after next, I think,” Octavia said, smiling her  _ Lincoln smile, _ which was easily the dopiest her usually serious face ever looked.

 

“I really miss him,” Octavia added thoughtfully. 

 

“I know you do,” Clark said softly as Octavia downed her vodka tonic.

 

Clarke had been more than a little suspicious of the man when Octavia first started dating him a few years ago. Lincoln was several years older and came across as  _ very _ intense, especially the first few times they met. He genuinely loved Octavia, though, and Clarke found that over the years she had grown extremely fond of him. He was finishing up a Ph.D. in Philosophy at Columbia, but the couple tried to see each other every few weeks.

 

“Another drink?” Octavia sighed.

 

Clarke looked down at her half-full beer. They had to work the next day, but it was likely to be an easy Friday in their agency’s office and another drink sounded like just the thing she needed to clear the jumbling thoughts that had taken residence in her head.

 

“Why not?” Clarke lifted her glass, “Another one of these - the Corruption.”

 

“Your wish is my command,” Octavia replied with a flourish as she slid out of the booth and headed toward the bar.

 

Clarke watched her go before her eyes were subconsciously drawn back to Lexa. Lexa, who was, she realized quickly, definitely staring at her again. Clarke looked away immediately, embarrassed, even though there was a small logical part of her brain telling her that perhaps Lexa should have been the embarrassed one. She focused back on her beer, downing almost the rest of it in one long pull.

 

_ What must it feel like, _ she wondered,  _ to lose a spouse. _ Clarke was not a stranger to death and loss. Her dad died just a week after her fifteenth birthday and it had taken her a long time to realize that sometimes there was no  _ why _ \- that cells in her father’s body had simply mutated and divided and attacked him from the inside, like some kind of biological Trojan horse. That if doctors had caught his cancer earlier, he would likely have survived. She had grieved for her him - her father, her best friend - in terrible ways, but somewhere along the years she had gotten  _ okay _ again. But she was never the same person that she had been before it happened.  _ And Finn. She had lost Finn, of course, but that was different. All these things, some little and some big, they break you apart or stretch you out and you end up this whole other shape and then  _ \-  **_clink_ ** _. _

 

Clarke looked up, startled, to find Octavia sliding a new beer in her direction.

 

“You okay there? You looked a million miles away,” Octavia’s voice was soft and concerned.

 

Clarke offered her a smile, “I’m good, sorry. Just thinking.”

 

She finished the rest of her old beer before noticing the two shot glasses sitting on the table.

 

“O…” Clarke sighed.

 

“It’s not my fault!” Octavia put her hands up in defense, “Your girlfriend over there said, and I quote, ‘Tell blondie these are from Lexa.’”

 

Octavia’s no nonsense impression of Anya was actually pretty spot on. Clarke took the offered shot and looked back toward Lexa’s place at the bar. She was still staring, her gaze boring into Clarke. Clarke lifted the glass toward her, but the only response she received was an almost imperceptible nod of the other woman’s head. Clarke looked back at Octavia, who had been watching the entire exchange.

 

“Tonight is weird,” Octavia deadpanned.

 

“To weirdness,” Clarke agreed, bringing her glass to clink against Octavia’s.

 

The women tipped their shots back in unison, and, damn, whatever Anya had mixed up was fucking delicious. It was the perfect blend of tart and a little sweet and Clarke couldn’t even identify the alcohol in it.

 

“That was amazing,” Octavia was suddenly speaking, “Griff, your girlfriend is a hell of a bartender.”

 

Clarke flashed her friend a dirty look before picking up her beer.

 

“Hey Clarke,” Anya’s voice was strong over the din of the bar. Clarke looked over to find the other woman leaning over the bartop, an eyebrow raised in challenge. Clarke tried not to notice her cleavage, but it was a losing battle.

 

“How was it? Best you ever had?”

 

Before Clarke could come up with a response, she heard Octavia call out, “Best she’s had in awhile, I can tell you that much.”

 

“O, come on,” Clarke was exasperated. She looked back to the bar, but Anya had already turned to serve another customer, a grin on her face. And Lexa wasn’t staring anymore.

 

“You can’t take me anywhere,” Octavia laughed before taking a big sip of her fresh drink.

 

“I can’t,” Clarke agreed before sighing, “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

 

“I bet at least three quarters of the office is hungover, too. We can go out for a long lunch.”

 

Clarke’s only response was to take another long swallow beer.

 

“Oh, speaking of work,” Octavia plowed onward, “I heard Thelonious is making some kind of big agency-wide announcement tomorrow.”

 

“What? Seriously? How’d you hear about that?”

 

“I’m an account executive,  _ darling _ , we’re a chatty bunch,” Octavia replied haughtily, stifling a laugh.

 

“I’m too drunk to deal with this right now. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

 

Octavia shrugged, “Well, when we got here you were pretty busy staring at your girl over there, and it was a welcome change from you moping about Finn so I just went with it.”

 

Hearing Finn’s name was still physically jarring, though not as bad as it had been a few months earlier. Clarke’s face must have slipped, however, because a second later Octavia added, “Shit. Sorry. I’m a little drunk - I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“No,” Clarke was quick to correct her friend, “Please. Don’t apologize. It’s way past time I get over it.”

 

“Hey,” Octavia’s hand was suddenly covering Clarke’s own, “You feel however you need to feel, okay?”

 

Clarke smiled her thanks. She took a long pull of beer, but Octavia still had a concerned look on her face when Clarke set the glass down.

 

“So you’re just a  _ little _ drunk, huh?” Clarke asked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Octavia grinned, “I’m a little drunk compared to  _ you. _ ”

 

Clarke laughed, “How did you let me get this drunk?”

 

“I’m not your keeper,” Octavia sing songed at Clarke before taking a healthy sip of her own drink. Octavia’s phone buzzed on the table and Clarke knew who was texting her immediately.

 

“Tell Lincoln I say he’s a saint for putting up with you, as always. I’m gonna close out the tab.”

 

Octavia looked up, guilty, “I don’t have to respond right away, he’s-”

 

“He’s important to you. And you don’t need to pretend otherwise just because I had a bad break up. Enough is enough, right?”

 

She looked to Octavia for confirmation, but the other girl just stared back at her.

 

“I’m done being hung up on Finn,” Clarke continued, “I hit on someone tonight. Not because my friends forced me into it, but because I actually wanted to. And, yes, she may have been emotionally unavailable, but at least my gaydar still works.”

 

Octavia chuckled, “You are so drunk.”

 

In response, Clarke finished her beer in one long gulp.

 

“Tell your girlfriend I say goodnight,” Octavia called after Clarke as she rose with unsteady legs. Clarke ignored her and attempted to walk to the bar in a straight line. She poured her body onto a stool and waited for Anya to finish closing out another customer.

 

“Another round?” Anya asked as she sauntered back over, wiping her hands on tight jeans.

 

“Not tonight,” Clarke really hoped she wasn’t slurring, “Just the check, please.”

 

“You got it,” Anya smirked like she knew all of Clarke’s secrets.

 

While Anya was closing out the tab, Clarke found her gaze being pulled down the bar toward Lexa. The other woman still had her book open, but she seemed to be staring at a spot on the bar instead of reading it.

 

“Here you go,” Anya interrupted her thoughts and slid a check at her.

 

“Thanks. Lexa’s really pretty,” Clarke declared once she freed her Visa from the confines of her wallet.

 

“She is,” Anya agreed, still smiling.

 

Clarke pushed the bill back before looking up, “You’re really pretty, too.”

 

Anya laughed as she picked up the check and turned away, “You are really drunk, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m medium drunk.”

 

“You’re cute,” Anya threw over her shoulder as she ran the card, and Clarke flushed. She didn’t say anything else, just watched Anya collect the receipts as they printed out from the machine.

 

“Cat got your tongue?” Anya asked as she handed the check back to Clarke.

 

“Maybe I’m more like medium well drunk,” she explained as she scribbled on the receipt, leaving Anya a too-big tip.

 

The bartender laughed again, “You want a glass of water?”

 

“No,” Clarke waved her hands in front of her, “That would be too intelligent.”

 

She finished signing and closed the checkbook, sliding it back to Anya.

 

“So, you take care of Lexa, right?”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Saw you talking to her,” Clarke explained like it was obvious.

 

“I guess I do kind of look out for her sometimes,” Anya’s fingertips toyed with the edges of the check book, “Why?”

 

“Could you tell her I’m sorry? Because I kind of know what it’s like - well, I don’t know  _ exactly _ what it’s like, obviously. But I know a little bit and I just - you know what? I’ll tell her myself.”

 

Clarke stood abruptly and aimed her steps toward Lexa. She just needed to make sure the other woman understood that she was sorry and that she kind of got it. She dropped down onto her stool from earlier and, she could admit, it perhaps wasn’t the most graceful she’d ever been. Lexa stared at her with wide eyes.

 

“Hi, again.”

 

“Hello,” Lexa said tentatively.

 

“So, thanks for the shot.”

 

Lexa nodded, silent.

 

“I just,” Clarke sighed and pushed some hair out of her face, “I wanted to talk to you again.”

 

“Oh,” Lexa blinked, looking surprised, but Clarke couldn’t understand why she should be surprised, “Okay.”

 

“Because before when I asked if you wanted me to leave you alone, you just said that I  _ should.  _ Should is not the same as want, Lexa.”

 

Lexa didn’t reply, just looked back down at her book. Clarke stared at her for a few more moments before realizing it was pretty much up to her to carry the conversation. Before her alcohol soaked brain could decide whether to ask about Lexa’s dead wife or the book she was reading, Clarke felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

 

“Let’s get you home, kiddo.”

 

Clarke frowned at her friend, “You know, I wish you wouldn’t call me kiddo. I’m older than you.”

 

“Whatever,” Octavia said as she helped Clarke up and then addressed Lexa, “Sorry. She’s had a few too many.”

 

“It’s fine,” Lexa replied tersely, “Be sure she gets home safely.”

 

“Aye aye,” Octavia saluted with the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Clark, “Have a nice night.”

 

“You have great eyes,” Clarke wanted to make sure Lexa knew that before she left. It was important.

 

“You sure do,” Octavia echoed quickly as she pulled Clarke toward the door, “You have great eyes. Clarke has great eyes. Hell,  _ I  _ have great eyes, too. Lots of great eyes here tonight. Goodnight!”

 

Octavia had Clarke out the door a few seconds later.

 

“What the fuck, O? You didn’t let her respond,” Clarke pouted, but leaned against her friend.

 

“Trust me,” Octavia tightened her grip, “You didn’t actually want her to respond. Come on, I’ll walk you home, you idiot.”

 

*****

 

“Morning, sunshine,” Octavia’s voice was too loud as she set a foil-wrapped package down on Clarke’s desk.

 

“Don’t,” Clarke winced at the scratchy sound of her own voice, “talk. Don’t...  _ do _ anything.”

 

“ _ ‘Thanks for the breakfast sandwich, Octavia,’ _ ” her friend mimicked, “Oh, you’re welcome Clarke. I know you’d do the same for me after you walked my drunk ass home, listened to me babble about shapes and puzzle pieces, and made sure I went to bed with a glass of water and a trash can next to me.”

 

Clark slumped forward onto her desk, “Thank you.”

 

Octavia patted her head, “You’re so lucky I love you.”

 

Clarke grunted her agreement and ripped open the foil to enjoy her sandwich before she would attempt to get at least  _ some  _ work done.

 

*****

 

“Okay, so this announcement is definitely huge,” Octavia plopped down on the edge of Clarke’s desk.

 

“I just can’t believe we have a meeting at 5pm on a Friday. A very,  _ very _ hungover Friday.”

 

Octavia chuckled, “Yeah, you were a real piece of work last night.”

 

“Please don’t remind me,” Clarke sighed, “I barely remember leaving the bar.”

 

“I could tell. You were talking to that woman and-”

 

“Stop. I really don’t want to know. I just want to pretend last night never happened.”

 

“Fair enough,” Octavia laughed, reaching for Clarke’s hand, “Come on, let’s get seats.”

 

“It’s five, already?” Clarke asked, but let Octavia pull her into the common area in the middle of the office. They snagged a couple of prime seats on one of the leather sofas and watched as their co-workers started to trickle over.

 

“So, I guess going back to Wonderland is out of the question tonight?”

 

Clarke glared at her.

 

“I’m just saying, I think you and that bartender had a thing.”

 

“There wasn’t a  _ thing.” _

 

“What thing?” Monty, Clarke’s favorite front-end developer, dropped down next to her.

 

“Nothing,” Clarke said firmly, staring at Octavia, “Octavia here is just being her usual annoying self.”

 

“Ah, got it,” Monty nodded sagely as Octavia protested, and Jasper, another developer, perched on the arm of the couch next to Octavia.

 

“I’ve never known Octavia to be annoying,” Jasper smiled down at the girl.

 

“Hah, thanks J,” Octavia’s return smile was thin, “You better sit down, though. I think Jaha wants to start right at five.”

 

Jasper’s smile faltered, but he nodded graciously and went to sit on the other side of Monty.

 

“How many times do I have to mention my giant boyfriend to him before this stops,” Octavia whispered to Clarke.

 

“Apparently, a few more.”

 

The chatter around the room died down as Thelonious Jaha, president and founder of Ark Agency, walked to the front of the space. 

 

“Hello,” he smiled, “and thank you, everyone, for taking some time out of your evening to listen to the old man.” 

 

Clarke schooled her face so as not to betray her annoyance - of  _ course _ they took some time out of their evenings, he was their boss and it was a mandatory announcement. 

 

“Now, most of you know that I started this company 15 years ago in my garage with a few friends. We would work all night and try to make sales and grow the business during the day. It was a fun time, or- maybe it wasn’t. It’s all a blur, really.”

 

Jaha paused for a few chuckles around the room.

 

“One thing we prided ourselves on was always trying to find the next big thing. Whether that be a new service for our clients, or adopting a new technology. In this business, if you stand still, you’re dead.”

 

Jaha paused for dramatic effect.

 

“And that’s why, after a lot of thought, and a lot of  _ long _ conversations, I’ve decided to sell the company.”

 

_ Sell the company?  _

 

“Woah,” Octavia whispered - and she wasn’t the only one. All around the room, whispers, some quiet, some not so much, picked up.

 

“Hang on, guys,” Jaha tried to quiet the crowd, “Please, just stay with me.”

 

The noise died down, mostly, and Jaha continued, “A few things you should know. One - I did not make this decision because I  _ had _ to. No one is getting laid off, okay? This is an offensive move, not a defensive move. Two - I received several really great offers, and I chose the one that puts us,  _ all of us _ , in the best place to do great things. So, this is a celebration!”

 

Jaha beamed and signaled toward the kitchen, and the office manager strode over with a tray full of champagne bottles and a sleeve of plastic cups. Jaha thanked her, grabbed a bottle and popped the cork swiftly. A decent sized cheer rose from the crowd.

 

“Wow,” Octavia said, leaning closer to Clarke, “I did not expect this.”

 

Clarke agreed with a hum as Monty nudged her arm and passed over two cups of champagne.

 

“Thanks,” she nodded to him before passing a cup to Octavia.

 

“Does everyone have a drink who wants one?” Jaha looked around, “Yes? Okay then - to the future!”

 

He raised his glass and everyone followed suit. Clarke winced, reminded of the ridiculous toasts she made the night before. 

 

“If I could just keep your attention for a few more minutes,” Jaha called out, quieting the room, “Thank you. So, first things first - this isn’t public knowledge yet, so please - no tweets, no instagrams of champagne, okay?”

 

The crowd smiled, most of them nodding their agreement. 

 

“Thank you. And the last thing I want to do before I take as many questions as you all want to throw at me, is to quickly introduce our new CEO. She has very graciously agreed to address you all tonight, despite her very busy schedule. So please join me in welcoming Trikru Media’s CEO, Alexandria Heda.”

 

Jaha put his champagne down and began to clap, the rest of the office joining in after just a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke saw a woman approach. She was slim, wearing a flawlessly tailored pencil skirt and jacket, and had her brown hair pulled tightly back into a bun. She looked young, too young to be a CEO-

 

“Oh my god,” Octavia whispered and wrapped her hand tightly around one of Clarke’s thighs. Clarke saw it just a second after Octavia. Alexandria Heda, their new CEO, was Lexa.


	2. Chapter 2

“No fucking way,” Clarke whispered to Octavia, her heart suddenly thumping from somewhere down in her stomach. As Lexa made her way to the front of the room, Clarke didn’t dare look at Octavia. Instead, she chose to down the rest of her champagne in one long swallow.

 

Lexa stood mere feet in front of Clarke, regarding the crowd with a deadly serious expression set on her face. When their eyes finally met, Lexa’s only reaction was a barely noticeable clench of her jaw. She spoke with that same calculated measure Clarke remembered from the bar. 

 

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for having me.”

 

“Hang on,” Jaha interrupted, handing her a cup of champagne, “Now you’re really welcomed.”

 

She inclined her head to him in gratitude before continuing, “As Thelonious said, my name is Alexandria Heda. I’ve been the CEO of Trikru Media for nearly six years, taking over for my father before me. We’ve seen the type of work Ark Agency is doing, and we’re very excited.”

 

The more she spoke, the more Clarke realized that  _ this _ Lexa was quite different than the one she met last night. The woman standing before them shared last-night-Lexa’s sad and serious nature, but she was much more confident and well-spoken. She completely commanded the attention of everyone in the room, with seemingly no effort, whereas last night Clarke had the impression that most bar patrons looked past Lexa without even noticing her.

 

“I think this will be a very mutually beneficial partnership,” Lexa continued, “And I look forward to working with you all.”

 

Lexa deftly managed to avoid Clarke’s stare as she lifted her cup to the crowd and took a sip.

 

“Ms. Heda, thank you so much for coming!” Jaha grinned, “And now, we’re going to pass around some more champagne for anyone that needs to top off, and we’ll take questions.”

 

The Q&A passed by in a bit of a blur for Clarke; she was busy trying hard not to stare at Lexa, while simultaneously ignoring Octavia’s less than subtle glances. The questions were mostly mundane, and it seemed like Jaha and Lexa were proposing that nothing much would change around the office - at least not at first. One interesting thing she did learn, however, was that they were the fourth company acquired by Trikru Media in three years.

 

Finally, the questions died down. Jaha again thanked Ms. Heda for coming and invited her to stay and celebrate, as there were more drinks and snacks ready in the kitchen. Lexa smiled, really just a thin press of her lips, and nodded. Around her, the rest of Clarke’s co-workers started to rise. Clarke couldn’t help but stare as Jaha led Lexa toward his desk, most likely to offer her a taste of the ridiculously expensive scotch he kept there. 

 

“Holy shit,” Octavia turned her whole body toward Clarke on the couch, unable to contain herself any longer, “Can you believe this?”

 

“No,” Clarke responded simply, her eyes still tracking Lexa and Jaha. 

 

“Are you going to say anything to her?”

 

Clarke finally snapped her attention back to Octavia, “You think I should? Won't that make it worse?”

 

“I don't know,” Octavia scrunched her features up in thought before hopping to her feet and reaching back down to help Clarke do the same, “Come on, let's get another drink while we think about it.”

 

“O,  _ no _ ,” she sighed, allowing her friend to pull her up, “That's what got me in this mess in the first place.”

 

“It's not  _ that _ bad,” Octavia led them past several small factions of their coworkers, “I mean- you guys are both adults. Professionals. You obviously couldn't have known.”

 

“True,” Clarke agreed begrudgingly, “that doesn't make this any less awkward though.” 

 

Clarke watched Lexa talk with Jaha - noticing that he did most of the talking - as she let her friend continue to drag her around the office. The CEO’s face was a polite mask, not all that dissimilar from the night before.

 

“Stop staring, you're going to make it weird.”

 

Clarke snapped her head back to face front a split second after she and Lexa locked eyes again. 

 

“Shit, she saw me,” Clarke’s stomach dipped, but her pulse quickened.

 

“Yeah, well you're not being subtle - like, at all,” Octavia smirked as she came to a stop in front of a two large ice buckets full of beer. 

 

“Fuck,” Clarke breathed sharply and accepted the bottle Octavia thrust toward her. 

 

“I'm telling you,” Octavia proclaimed as she poured herself a plastic cup of wine, “the longer you wait to talk to her, the weirder it's going to be. If you go now, you can laugh it off - trust me.”

 

Clarke took a swig of beer and allowed herself a quick glance back toward Jaha’s desk. Lexa was looking at her - had she ever stopped? - as Jaha prattled on about God knows what, pouring them both some scotch. 

 

“I can’t do this,” Clarke sighed, walking further around the corner into the kitchen to remove herself from the temptation of stealing glances at her new boss. Clarke noticed Jasper and Monty ambling toward them. The boys both had a shot in each of their hands and Clarke immediately started to shake her head. 

 

“No way,” she told them, her eyes on the plastic shot glasses.

 

“Come on,” Jasper laughed, “It’s a celebration!”

 

“I had too many shots last night and I’m  _ way _ too old to make this a habit.”

 

“Don’t be so lame,” Octavia grinned, plucking a shot out of Monty’s hand, “This is free alcohol! More importantly: this is alcohol that Jaha bought for us. You  _ have _ to drink it.”

 

Jasper nodded, holding up the shot glass, “Just one? It’s only Fireball.”

 

Clarke glared at Octavia as she accepted the cup, “For the record, I hate you all and if I puke everywhere I’m not cleaning it up.”

 

“Whatever,” Octavia lifted her glass, “Cheers, nerds!”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, but brought her glass up in the middle of their little circle before knocking back the shot. Fireball was significantly easier to handle than Jameson. And after one shot of Fireball, two glasses of champagne, and half a beer, she was actually feeling the best she had all day - not that she would tell Octavia that.

 

Clarke felt her phone vibrate from within her pocket as she tossed the plastic shot glass into the trash. She dug it out, frowning at a local 202 number she didn’t recognize, before stepping away from the group and answering. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey there, Blondie, how’re you feeling?”

 

It took Clarke a moment to place the voice. 

 

“Anya?”

 

“You remember me! I’m touched,” Anya laughed.

 

“What’s- uh,” Clarke stuttered, “Why are you calling me?

 

“You left your credit card at the bar last night,” Clarke could just picture Anya’s smirk as she closed her eyes.

 

“Of course I did. Wait - how did you get my number?”

 

“Oh, you scribbled it on the check,” Anya explained breezily, “I could barely read it, actually - I called a disconnected number and got two voicemails before I reached you.”

 

“Oh my god,” Clarke‘s face felt suddenly warmer.

 

Anya laughed again, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. You’re actually one of the most attractive customers to leave your number.”

 

“I, um, thank you, I guess” Clarke managed.

 

“I’m working tonight if you want to stop by and get your card,” Anya continued as if she had these conversations all the time, “But if you don’t want to see me - I will  _ not _ be working brunch tomorrow and I can let the bartender know to expect you.”

 

“You’re a very kind woman.”

 

“So are you - thanks for the 75% tip, by the way.”

 

“Oh god,” Clarke pressed her cold beer bottle against her forehead - it felt far too good.

 

“See you around.”

 

“Yup, bye,” Clarke ended the call, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.

 

“Who was that?” Octavia asked.

 

“The bartender from last night,” Clarke explained without opening her eyes.

 

“Um, excuse me?”

 

“I apparently left my credit card there. And also gave her my number.”

 

Octavia’s laugh was loud and sharp enough to draw Clarke’s eyes open. 

 

“You’re a terrible friend,” she huffed grumpily.

 

“No, I’m not,” Octavia managed in the midst of her laughter, “but this is too good.”

 

“What’s so funny?” Monty asked, as he and Jasper appeared out of nowhere with more shots  _ again _ .

 

“How do you do that?” Clarke asked, pushing herself away from the wall, “You’re like the liquor faires.” 

 

“Years of practice,” Monty shrugged, holding out the cup.

 

Clarke took this one without a second thought, draining it and tossing away the empty shot glass before the rest of her friends had the chance to offer up another ridiculous toast.

 

“So,” Jasper smirked, “what’d we miss?”

 

Octavia threw her shot back before answering, “Oh, our girl Clarke here is just having miserable luck. She left her credit card at Wonderland last night.”

 

“So, another round here and then we head over to the bar?” Monty asked.

 

“You know what?” Clarke sighed, “Fuck it - sure. I'm getting another beer.”

 

Clarke smiled at the cheers her friends yelled after her retreating form. She made her way around the corner toward the makeshift bar, which just  _ happened _ to be in the same line of sight as Jaha’s desk. Clarke’s stomach rolled as she glanced past the crowd to where she had last seen her bosses, old and new. Jaha was talking to a group of other people and Lexa was already gone. 

 

*****

 

“No shit,” Anya smirked, leaning forward onto the bar to rest her chin in her hands, “For real?”

 

“Uh huh,” Clarke nodded as she looked down into the beer Anya had just presented her -  _ on the house. _

 

“Wow. I knew she had bought another company but, damn, what are the odds. You really are having a day, huh?”

 

“I really am,” Clarke sighed, “Please don’t offer me a shot.”

 

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Anya laughed, “So, did you talk to her?”

 

“No - why? Do you think I should have?”

 

“Relax, I'm just curious. This is wild.”

 

Clarke nodded and took a long pull of her beer, “I didn’t talk to her. She seemed so… so -  _ different. _ I don’t know. She also left pretty quickly.”

 

“I get that,” Anya nodded before holding up a finger toward Clarke and turning away to serve another customer, “Hang on.”

 

Clarke glanced over her shoulder as she waited; her co-workers were crowded around a table setting up a round of Jenga. Octavia smirked at her, quirking up an eyebrow, so Clarke threw a glare in her direction and brought her attention back to the beer in front of her.

 

“I used to work with Lexa, actually,” Anya was back.

 

“Oh, really?” Clarke sat up straighter, “So, what’s her deal?”

 

“Her  _ deal _ ?”

 

“You know, the way she is at work. She acted like a fucking  _ soldier _ today. I thought she was serious last night, but damn.”

 

“She does take her work extremely seriously,” Anya agreed, wiping some beer glasses dry as she pulled them from the dishwasher, “She's very good at what she does, of course. Working with her was hard as hell, but she's fair and efficient. Hard to ask for more than that from a boss at her level.”

 

Clarke nodded, “So, why'd you stop working with her then?”

 

“Decided to go to law school,” Anya smiled, “I considered trying to stay on part time but Lexa said, and I quote, ‘If I can't have your full focus, I don't want any of you.’”

 

“That sounds like her.”

 

“She was right. My first semester at Georgetown just about killed me - I would've been a liability at work, would've made stupid mistakes,” Anya shrugged, “Anyway, it all worked out. I'm in my 3L year now, and I was bored and broke, so I took up tending bar.”

 

“Well you've got it down pretty good - the whole  _ get ‘em super drunk so they leave a huge tip  _ thing, I mean,” Clarke raised her beer. 

 

“You've gotta be smart to work with Lexa,” she smirked, “You'll learn that. Fast.”

 

“So,” Clarke drew out the vowel, “do you think she'll show again tonight?”

 

Anya laughed, “Not on your life. Now scram, I've got other customers.”

 

Clarke’s cheeks were warm as she nodded her thanks and pushed off her barstool. She walked toward her friends and slid into the booth beside Octavia. 

 

“You're blushing,” Octavia poked her in the shoulder. 

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Seriously, Clarke, I know you had eyes for Ms. Fuck Me in My Power Suit - but I think you should just bang the bartender. It could be good for you.”

 

“Clarke's going to bang the bartender?” Jasper leaned across the table, inserting himself into their conversation. 

 

“Octavia, I swear to god,” Clarke ignored Jasper and turned to the woman next to her. 

 

“I don't know, Jas,” Octavia was quick to reply, “I think the bartender only has eyes for you.”

 

“You think?” Jasper’s eyes lit up, “I did shoot her an  _ especially _ charming grin when I ordered my drink.”

 

“Yeah, totally, you should go follow up on that - like now.”

 

Jasper’s smile grew and he shot out of the booth without another word. Clarke felt guilty for subjecting Anya to Jasper’s particular brand of “charm,” but she seemed like the type of woman who didn’t take any shit. It might be good for Jasper.

 

“He’s like a fucking Pavlovian dog,” Octavia muttered, shaking her head, “So what were you and the hot bartender chatting about, anyway?”

 

“Anya,” Clarke corrected.

 

“What were you and  _ Anya _ talking about?”

 

“She used to work with Lexa, actually,” Clarke said, “But she quit when she started law school a couple of years ago.”

 

“ _ Interesting _ ,” Octavia shifted closer to Clarke, “So did she give you any tips on how to woo your girlfriend?”

 

“She’s not -” Clarke sighed, pausing to decide how much to divulge to Octavia, “Lexa’s - Her wife passed away last year. So, leave it alone, okay?”

 

“Shit,” Octavia responded after a moment, nodding,  “Okay, got it. I’m sorry I pushed.”

 

“It’s fine, just - now maybe you can see why last night was so intense. And why today was extra weird.”

 

“Yeah,” Octavia nodded, “So what are you going to do?”

 

Clarke frowned. What  _ was  _ she going to do? Short of asking Anya for Lexa’s number, there wasn’t really a way for her to initiate communication.

 

“I don’t know for sure yet,” Clarke said, “Probably nothing? I doubt we’ll have to interact at work much - maybe not at all. I think I just need some time to shake off last night.”

 

“Totally,” Octavia agreed, “It was, what, like a ten minute conversation? I’m sure she’s not even thinking about it. Come on, let’s play some Jenga and you can forget about it, too.”

 

***

 

_ One week later  _

 

“Clarke.”

 

Clarke jolted in her seat as she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and quickly pulled her large headphones off her ears. She swiveled around to find Jaha and, standing back a few feet, Lexa, both staring down at her. 

 

“Uh- hi,” Clarke fumbled with the cord of her headphones, “what's- hey.”

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jaha said, “I was just telling Ms. Heda about your work on the Port City Brewing Company app.”

 

“Oh. That's,” Clarke hesitated, “nice.”

 

“I was hoping you could show her the war room and explain things in a little more detail.”

 

“But if you're too busy,” Lexa cut in, taking a step forward, “I'm sure Mr. Jaha would do an admirable job.”

 

“Oh, no,” Jaha laughed, “You want Clarke.”

 

Sheer panic flooded Clarke’s chest for a long moment before Jaha had the decency to continue his thought.

 

“She's put more hours into this thing than anyone. She's definitely your woman.”

 

Lexa’s face was pinched, but she nodded graciously, “Very well, then.”

 

“Oh, where are my manners?” Jaha asked suddenly, “Ms. Heda- this is Clarke Griffin, one of our most talented art directors.”

 

_ Right,  _ Clarke stood up,  _ because we have  _ **_definitely_ ** _ never met before. Of course.  _

 

“And Clarke, allow me to personally introduce you to our new boss - Ms. Alexandria Heda.”

 

Clarke did her best to ignore the cartwheels flipping around in her stomach and thrust out her hand, “Ms. Heda, it's nice to meet you.”

 

Lexa paused for a split second before taking Clarke's hand, “Ms. Griffin.”

 

The handshake was firm and brief; it was over before Clarke could really notice anything about Lexa's hand except for the fact that it felt  _ good. _ Which was just a stupid, fleeting thought that she had no definition for. What did  _ good _ mean in a situation like this, anyway?

 

“If you'll just follow me,” Clarke didn't wait for Lexa’s response before turning and walking briskly through the office. 

 

Once she reached the small conference room that the Port City team had taken over, Clarke held the door open for Lexa. After a quick internal debate about whether or not to leave the door open, she shut it quietly behind them. A few of her co-workers were playing ping pong and it often got loud. 

 

“Hi,” Clarke finally turned to face Lexa.

 

“Hello.” 

 

Lexa’s jaw muscles tensed. It was terribly juvenile, Clarke could admit, but she was glad that Lexa seemed to be just as uncomfortable with the situation as she was. 

 

“So, this is our war room,” Clarke began, her eyes darting around to gaze at various printouts that covered most of the wall space in the tiny room, “which is basically where-”

 

“I’m familiar with the concept,” Lexa interrupted wryly. 

 

“Right.”

 

Lexa turned from her then, stubbing out the young conversation, and began to study the sketches, notes, and designs strewn about. Clarke hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Jaha had asked her to provide insights on the project, but she wasn’t sure how to do that if Lexa wanted nothing to do with her. 

 

“I’m really sorry, about the other night,” the words were out of Clarke's mouth before she really had a chance to think about them properly. 

 

Lexa sighed, “It’s fine, Clarke. Let’s just move on, please.”

 

“I just wanted you to know - I noticed that you stopped going to Wonderland. And, if it’s to avoid me, you really shouldn’t have to do that. I can drink somewhere else.”

 

“How long have you been working on these concepts?” Lexa asked, her voice clipped.

 

“Listen,” Clarke continued, “I know you said you don’t do  _ friends _ , but Anya really seems like -”

 

“ _ Clarke _ .”

 

Lexa’s body was angled away from Clarke, but she was able to see enough of her new boss’ profile to notice that Lexa’s eyes were shut and she was breathing heavily. Clarke studied the rise and fall of Lexa’s chest for another few seconds before snapping out of her mini-trance.

 

“Port City Brewing Company is trying to create a really robust experience for customers who come to visit the brewery, so we’re working on a few app concepts.”

 

Clarke moved across the room, coming to stand in front the wall a few feet to right of Lexa. She gestured toward a few large printouts, though she wasn’t sure whether Lexa’s eyes were open or shut. 

 

“This is our first concept - we’ve been calling it ‘The Drinking Buddy.’ It’s basically a concierge-type experience, the user can ask questions about the brewing process, get recommendations about different types of beer, all that kind of stuff. Maybe it’s voice activated? We haven’t gotten that far yet, to be honest,” Clarke explained.

 

Before moving down the wall she risked a glance at Lexa, checking to see that the other woman was following along. Lexa had opened her eyes, which Clarke took as a good sign.

 

“Our other concept is ‘Brewmaster You.’ It’s much more gamified - the user can mess around with different ingredients and processes and pretend to brew various beers. There’s an educational aspect to it, as well as a competition - the real brewmasters can pick a winner and reward them in real time at the brewery.”

 

Clarke gestured toward a few looser sketches, “This one isn’t as fleshed out yet - still trying to figure out the visual style.”

 

She saw Lexa nod out of the corner of her eye and suddenly felt  _ very  _ exposed. Clarke showed her work, in various stages of “done,” to all sorts of people all the time. She was used to just about every kind of criticism, and had developed a thick skin early in her career. But there was something about Lexa’s expression, unreadable as ever, that was cutting deep down to the core of her. Did Lexa like the work? Think it was frivolous? Stupid? Obvious?

 

Clarke shook her head to center herself once more, “Anyway, that’s pretty much where we’re at right now. We’ll continue to tighten up these concepts and we present them to the client in a few weeks.”

 

Lexa came to stand next to her, continuing to study the pages on the wall for moments that stretched on and on. Clarke felt proud of herself for only sneaking two glances at the other woman’s profile. 

 

“You don’t have to stop going to Wonderland,” Lexa said finally.

 

“Oh,” Clarke hesitated, thrown by the conversation shift, “Yeah?” 

 

“Yes. I have not been avoiding you, or the bar - I’ve had a busy couple of weeks,” Lexa turned her head to regard Clarke, eyebrow raised,  “Buying a company isn’t easy, you know.”

 

“Was that a joke?” Clarke asked after a long beat. 

 

Lexa pursed her lips before repeating her earlier question, “How long have you been working on these concepts?”

 

Again, the sudden change of topic gave Clarke slight pause, but she recovered quickly, “A little less than a month.”

 

“That’s much too long. At Trikru Media, we like to turn around projects more quickly. I’ll have to talk to Jaha about your processes here.”

 

“I’ll save you the trouble - I can tell you about the process,” Clarke’s temper flared, “It’s that we do good,  _ thoughtful _ work. And that can take some time.”

 

“You are not reinventing the wheel here, Ms. Griffin. There is no need to be self-indulgent on this project,” Lexa replied evenly.

 

Something about the calm tone of Lexa’s voice or the indifferent look on her stupidly gorgeous face - or both - set Clarke’s blood on fire. Who the hell did this woman think she was to show up and basically tell her that she was working too slowly, that she was  _ self-indulgent _ ? Lexa knew nothing about Ark Agency, about the people who worked there. She didn’t know the late nights Clarke had spent wondering which image would connect with users more, which strategy was the right one.

 

“Oh,” Clarke took a step closer to Lexa, squaring her shoulders, “So you’d rather we just pump out a ton of sub-par work and turn a bigger profit? Is that how we do it here  _ at Trikru Media? _ ”

 

“That’s not what I said,” Lexa said quietly, maintaining eye contact, but shuffling away from Clarke. 

 

Clarke’s gaze dropped down to study the way Lexa’s lips pursed indignantly, too incensed to even attempt to disguise the look. Although it may not have been what Lexa  _ said,  _ in the back of Clarke’s mind she wondered if it was precisely what Lexa  _ meant _ .

 

“Well,” Clarke drawled, continuing to make her way into Lexa’s limited space, “that’s exactly what it sounded like to me.”

 

Lexa backed away from Clarke’s stalking form until her back bumped against the wall, knocking down one of the printouts.

 

_ “Ms. Griffin.” _

 

Lexa was desperately hanging onto some semblance of control of the situation. She was almost glaring at Clarke, but her eyes were a little too wide - her chest rose and fell a little too quickly - for it to be intimidating. Clarke suddenly remembered that this woman, who she basically had backed up against a wall, was her  _ boss. _

 

“I- I’m sorry,” she stepped back, shaking her head, “that was out of line.”

 

Clarke turned, taking deep breaths as she attempted to collect herself.

 

“You’re passionate about your work,” Lexa responded only after Clarke had moved several paces away, “Don’t misunderstand me, Clarke - this is good,  _ very _ good, and I am not trying to belittle your process - but my company thrives on efficiency. 

 

“This work,” Lexa continued, gesturing around the room, “Has taken up almost all of your time - and three of your teammates’ time - for nearly a month, and you’re not even done yet. Eventually, I’d like to see this type of assignment completed in three weeks or less.”

 

“Three weeks,” Clarke nodded and replied as sarcastically as she could.

 

Lexa nodded right back, her face impassive, “Or less, yes.”

 

“Whatever you say,  _ boss _ ,” Clarke crossed her arms because it seemed like a better option than clenching her fists, “Are we done here?”

 

Lexa tilted her head, an eyebrow quirked - she almost looked amused.

 

“Yes, we’re done here. Thank you for your time, Ms. Griffin.”

 

“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” Clarke all but seethed before opening the door and gesturing for Lexa to go ahead of her. It was 90% to make a statement and only 10% to check out Lexa’s ass, or that was what she told herself anyway. She followed Lexa toward Jaha’s desk, shooting daggers at the back of the other woman’s head the entire way. Jaha saw the pair approaching and stood to meet them.

 

“So what did you think, Ms. Heda?” 

 

“Ms. Griffin is very talented,” Lexa glanced over her shoulder at Clarke as she approached, that same damn eyebrow cocked once again, “you were right.”

 

Lexa turned to face Jaha again and her poker face was back, but Clarke noticed hints of mirth there now. Jaha, oblivious to the tension, beamed at his employee.

 

“Thank you, Clarke,” he told her, looking relieved.

 

“Uh, sure - it’s not a problem,” Clarke managed, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. It was nice to meet you.”

 

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine,” Lexa smirked and Clarke’s pulse throbbed madly, “Have a wonderful evening Ms. Griffin.”

 

Clarke grimaced, hoping the expression looked enough like a passable smile, before turning to make a beeline for her desk. She grabbed her coat, quickly checking the pockets to make sure her wallet and keys were there before heading toward Octavia.

 

“Hey, let’s go get a coffee.”

 

“Um, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just offer me caffeine after 4pm when you  _ know _ how I get,” Octavia replied without looking up from her phone.

 

“Decaf,” Clarke’s gaze darted back toward Jaha’s desk, though she couldn’t really see anything, “Or herbal tea - whatever.”

 

“Sure spaz,” Octavia stood, grabbing her coat from the back of her chair and followed Clarke toward the door.

 

Clarke said nothing more as she stormed ahead of Octavia, her head down, her steps long and quick. She angrily jabbed at the elevator button and was impatiently tapping her foot by the time Octavia caught up with her.

 

“Okay, what the fuck?” Octavia questioned.

 

Clarke looked beyond Octavia’s shoulder down the hallway that led back to their office before leaning in close.

 

“I just had a,” Clarke paused, “ _ conversation _ with Ms. Heda.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

Before Clarke could elaborate, the elevator dinged its arrival. She pulled Octavia in and jammed on the door close button until the doors responded.

 

“So, Jaha asked me to explain our work on the Port City app concepts.”

 

“Okay?” Octavia pushed, “And?”

 

“ _ And _ she was totally unreasonable! She told me I was spending too much time on it, that I ‘shouldn’t reinvent the wheel,’” Clarke threw her hands up to make air quotes.

 

“Oh god, Clarke,” Octavia pressed her fingers to her temple, “did you get fired?”

 

“What! No - why would you think that?”

 

“Well you’re like  _ really  _ worked up right now. And I know how you can get - I’m surprised you didn’t run your mouth or do something equally dumb,” Octavia explained.

 

Clarke hesitated, breaking eye contact with Octavia to look at the floor before elaborating, “I mean, there’s a chance I got up in her face and told her she that all she cared about was turning a profit.”

 

The elevator stopped abruptly on the ground floor, and Clarke rushed out as soon as the doors opened.

 

“Jesus fucking christ, how did you  _ not  _ get fired? I’ve heard Heda is a real hardass,” Octavia sounded exasperated, hot on Clarke’s heels.

 

“Oh yeah?” 

 

The thought of unlocking another little piece of the mystery that was Lexa was tempting enough to slow Clarke’s footsteps. Octavia caught up easily.

 

“Mmmhmm, one of the other account execs told me that she laid off an  _ entire _ office that was underperforming. So could you try not to make her hate us, if that’s not too much trouble?”

 

“She can’t just waltz in here and change everything!” Clarke snarled.

 

Octavia sighed, “Um, yes, she can. That’s what it means to buy a company, you idiot.”

 

Clarke scowled in response and burst ahead of Octavia once more, not even bothering to hold the door open for her friend. She heard Octavia mutter “Damnit Clarke” under her breath as she caught the closing door awkwardly.

 

“Just cool it, that’s all I’m saying,” Octavia offered as she caught up again, “At least for now, until things settle down a little more.”

 

“I’ll cool it if she does,” Clarke shrugged, feeling petulant. 

 

_ “Clarke.” _

 

“You didn’t hear her, O!” Clarke insisted, “You would’ve been pissed too.”

 

“Yeah maybe, but jesus - act like a professional and suck it up. She’s our  _ boss _ now.”

 

“You know what, nevermind,” Clarke stopped short and glanced at the worn face of her father’s watch, “It’s late enough to get the fuck out of here. I need a drink.”

 

“You don’t even have your laptop,” Octavia reminded her, arms crossed.

 

“I don’t care.”

 

Clarke turned before Octavia could get another word in edgewise. She pulled her coat more tightly around her frame and trudged off toward the bar while Octavia just watched her walk away, shaking her head angrily. Clarke seethed to herself over the ten minute walk to Wonderland, replaying her encounters with both Lexa and Octavia over in her head.

 

Finally, Clarke made it to Wonderland. She slung the door open with a little more force than necessary, stalked into the bar, and threw herself down roughly onto a stool. A minute or so passed with Clarke trying to warm up her fingertips before Anya emerged from the back carrying a case of beer.

 

“Well, well, well,” Anya smirked, “It’s a little early for you, isn’t it?”

 

“Can I have a whiskey? Whatever  _ Ms. Heda _ usually drinks.” 

 

Clarke knew she sounded like a brat, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Anya quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. She poured out the bourbon with a heavy hand while Clarke fished a $20 out of her wallet.

 

“Everything okay?” Anya asked finally, sliding the glass over before picking up the cash.

 

“Your buddy Lexa came by my office today.”

 

“Ah, I see” Anya nodded, dropping Clarke’s change on the bar before turning away to unload the case of beer.

 

“You see, huh? Then you know how goddamn infuriating she can be?” 

 

Clarke took a long swallow of whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down her throat and warmed her belly almost immediately.

 

“Of course I know that,” Anya laughed, “I’ve known her for five years. You met her, what, all of two weeks ago?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarke swirled her glass on the bar, focusing on the different shades of amber as the whiskey glided up the side and settled back down. 

 

“It means that I’m 100% sure whatever she did today wasn’t half as bad as her worst,” Anya shrugged.

 

Clarke threw back some more bourbon before responding, “How the hell did you work with her?”

 

Anya tilted her head at Clarke, studying her for a moment, and then squared up and placed both hands down on the bar. 

 

“Listen up,” she said, “Lexa is tough, sure, but she’s incredible at what she does. Do you think it’s a coincidence that she’s so young, that her company is so successful? You think she just swooped in and rode a wave of good luck? Don’t be an idiot, it’s not a good look on you.”

 

Anya held Clarke’s gaze for a another long moment before turning so she could continue to unload the case of beer. Clarke scowled in response, annoyed that yet  _ another  _ person was defending Lexa. She remembered the smirk on Lexa’s face, the quirk of her eyebrow, her tone of voice as she parroted Clarke’s “the pleasure was all mine” back at her and took another drink from her glass.

 

“So she’s what - just a cold, heartless businesswoman?” 

 

Anya shook her head, “You think her ways are harsh, but she’s done what she has to for her company to survive.”

 

Clarke scoffed, “You talk about her company like it’s a person, like it has a  _ soul _ .”

 

Anya paused for a moment, holding a beer in transit just a few inches above the case. She sighed.

 

“It’s important to her, and you clearly know nothing about it. Or her,” Anya slammed the beer bottle down onto the bar top, “I know it’s none of my business, but if you want to learn a thing or two - you should take notes. Watch, listen, pay attention.”

 

“You’re right,” Clarke finished her bourbon in one last gulp before sliding the glass and her change toward Anya, “It’s none of your business.”

 

Clarke stood and shrugged her coat back on, annoyed that Anya made no attempt to stop her or even respond.  _ She and Lexa are cut from the same fucking cloth _ , Clarke thought as she turned and stormed out of the bar. Her rage simmered the entire way home, jaw tense and collar flipped up to protect against the biting wind as she raced the fading January light home.

 

As soon as Clarke climbed the stairs to her apartment and locked the door behind her, she felt restless -  _ caged _ . Her home was cold and dark and uninviting, and Clarke wished, not for the first time in her life, that she could have controlled her temper a little better. Now pushing 28 years old, she wasn’t as mercurial as she had been in her younger days, but there was something about Lexa that made her throw reason out the window. 

 

She sighed, knowing her pent-up energy and anger likely wouldn’t dissipate for a few hours. Clarke weighed her options: she could sit around and watch crappy TV while she replayed the various confrontations from her day over again in her head, or,  _ maybe, _ she could do something she hadn’t done in a few years. She could paint.

 

Clarke nodded to herself, decision made, and brought her apartment to life with the flick of a few light switches and the turn of her thermostat. She changed into an old long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans that were already dappled with splotches of color and left her phone set to Do Not Disturb on her nightstand. She studied her record collection for a few moments before deciding on an old Rilo Kiley album, and then dug around in her closet for supplies. 

 

Clarke took solace in the comforting, and somewhat mindless, routine of preparing her workspace.  _ Set up the easel. Find a canvas. Lay out brushes and rags and palette knives. Pour out some mineral spirits and choose a few tubes of oil paint. _ Her heart rate finally evened out as she began to put paint to canvas - just a thin, angry swirl of color at first. A couple of hours passed while she lost herself in the repetition of building up a base of delicate layers. Her stomach growled right around the time she figured she would need to stop and let the paint oxidize anyway. 

 

Clarke finished blending out a section by the corner before studying the whole canvas critically. She nodded once and set to cleaning up her mess. She glanced at the clock as she washed out her brushes: 8:42pm and she had not eaten since lunch. She sighed, threw some leftovers in the microwave, and finished tidying up her workspace. By the time the microwave beeped she had a semi-clean apartment and a very large glass of wine in hand. Clarke collapsed onto her couch, exhausted, and hesitated for only a moment before picking up her phone and tapping out a quick text to Octavia.

 

_ Sorry I was an asshole _

 

The reply came some minutes later, after Clarke had inhaled her dinner and was nestled beneath a blanket enjoying her wine and an episode of Parks and Recreation.

 

_ You’re forgiven. I know you  _ __  
_ were upset, but I’m always  _ _  
_ __ on your side, yeah?

 

Clarke smiled.

 

_ I know. Thanks for putting  _ _  
_ _ up with me _

 

_ Also, Heda asked about  _ __  
_ you when I went back  _ _  
_ __ up to the office

 

Clarke’s stomach fluttered as she responded quickly.

 

_ Wait - what? What’d she say? _

 

Impatient, she added another line while Octavia was responding.

 

_ Am I in trouble? _

 

The dots stopped for just a second before picking up again.

 

_ Nah, nothing like that. She  _ __  
_ was just wondering where  _ __  
_ you were - told me to tell  _ __  
_ you again that your work  _ _  
_ __ was really good

 

_ God she’s frustrating _

 

_ Be careful there _

 

_ What do you mean _

 

_ There’s obviously something  _ __  
_ there, with you two. Just be  _ _  
_ __ careful.

 

_ No, it’s not like tha  _

 

Clarke paused, considering Octavia’s words, and deleted her message.

 

_ Yeah, I know _

 

A second later, Clarke couldn’t help but add another message.

 

_ But she has SUCH  _ __  
_ a good face. You’ve  _ _  
_ __ seen her face, right?

 

Octavia responded with only an eye roll emoji, and Clarke laughed heartily for the first time in hours.

 

_ I’m exhausted - goodnight  _ _  
_ _ O… sorry, again _

 

_ We’re good - see you tomorrow _

 

Clarke smiled, relief seeping through her veins at Octavia’s acceptance of her apology. Her best friend could definitely hold a grudge, though she rarely did so with Clarke. They’d known each other for so long and seen each other through so many life events (both good and bad) that it took a  _ lot  _ for them to stay angry. 

 

Clarke made quick work of her bedtime routine, weariness weighing heavy on her bones even though it was not even 10pm. As she slipped into her cool sheets and tugged the comforter up around her chin, her mind drifted - as it seemed to be doing so often lately - to Lexa. 

  
She sighed angrily; it was in no way, shape, or form remotely professional to be thinking about her boss in bed. Clarke couldn’t lie to herself, though; she was intrigued by Lexa. She was also  _ clearly _ attracted to the other woman, as well as infuriated and annoyed by her and - Clarke took a deep breath to calm herself down. She would just have to keep her distance, Clarke decided then and there. She could only control her own actions, so she would smile and nod pleasantly if Lexa spoke to her, but she would  _ not _ , under any circumstances, engage in another heated exchange with her boss. No problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if the text message format was working or if it was distracting and/or unclear - thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Well, it was bound to happen. Despite her best efforts, Clarke could only avoid Lexa for so long before she’d have to speak to her again. Especially since it seemed like the woman had been lurking around the office every single day for the past couple of weeks. Especially because her traitorous eyes seemed to always find Lexa’s, no matter the distance or distractions between them. It kept happening. It happened _again_ today and Lexa actually got this determined looking little frown on her face, so Clarke did the only logical thing she could think to do - she darted into the war room to hide.

 

Her relief was short lived, unfortunately, as she heard a soft knock on the door just a few moments later.

 

“Yes?” Clarke called.

 

“Ms. Griffin,” Lexa poked her head through the doorway, “am I interrupting?”

 

“It’s fine,” Clarke said, doing her best to sound sincere as she closed her sketchbook, “Come in, Ms. Heda.”

 

Lexa nodded as she fully entered the small room and shut the door behind her. She looked good - no, she looked great - as fucking usual. She wore a pair of light pants that looked like they had been tailored to her body (they surely had), wingtip shoes that managed to look expensive, practical, and trendy all at the same time, and a crisp button up shirt. Clarke tried not to feel inadequate in the jeans and flannel she had haphazardly thrown on that morning.

 

“How are things going?” Lexa asked, standing near the door almost as if she were afraid to approach Clarke, “I haven’t had a chance to check in with you since the other week.”

 

_Had a chance_ , Clarke thought, trying not to laugh, _more like we’ve awkwardly been avoiding each other._

 

“Things are going fine, thank you. I appreciate you checking in,” Clarke lied through a fake smile.

 

She tried not to squirm under Lexa’s scrutiny as her boss took several long moments to simply study Clarke and the sketchbook on her lap.

 

“Really? Because it seemed like you were angry with me when we last spoke. And every time I’ve seen you over the past few days you seem to disappear about 10 seconds later,” Lexa finally said, the faintest hint of a smirk present on her lips.

 

“It’s impressive, actually,” Lexa added before Clarke could figure out how to respond, her lips turning up a little more.

 

For a brief moment Clarke actually wanted to smile, too. Somehow less than a minute of conversation with this woman had been enough to make her forget her anger and frustration of the previous week. It was infectious and intoxicating, seeing Lexa like this.

 

“Well, you know,” Clarke shifted on the couch and leaned forward to rest her chin in her hand, “I’ve been told that before.”

 

Clarke maintained eye contact and waited a long beat before adding, “That I’m impressive, I mean.”

 

Clarke watched, satisfied, as Lexa swallowed thickly in response. Her boss gave a little hum of acknowledgement, a mixture of amusement and dismissal.

 

“And what _impressive_ piece of genius are you working on today?”

 

Clarke hesitated, knowing Lexa wouldn’t like the answer. She was working on the Port City concepts. Again. Lying crossed her mind for a split second, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the easy way out.

 

“Iterating on the Port City work,” Clarke stated simply, her tone begging for a challenge.

 

The change in Lexa’s demeanor was immediate. The smile that had been blossoming on her face was dashed in an instant, replaced with a clenched jaw and fiery eyes.

 

“I thought we discussed that last week,” she said cooly.

 

“We did,” Clarke nodded, “I am aware that you’re looking for a quicker turnaround on future projects. But our client presentation has been scheduled for nearly two months, and I still have a week and half before these need to be finalized.”

 

“That’s all well and good, but you have two fantastic concepts that are basically finished and ready for client presentation. If I’m to believe Jaha, you could present them in your sleep and the client would be thrilled.”

 

“I’m not sure they’re quite _there_ yet, I just want to make sure I’ve pushed them as far as I can,” Clarke explained.

 

“Exactly which part of not being self-indulgent on a project like this did you _not_ understand? Do you need me to define self-indulgence?” Lexa’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

 

“Excuse me?” Clarke set her notebook to off to the other end of the couch and stood up, crossing her arms.

 

“This is a relatively small account, Ms. Griffin, and wasting your hours, your days, your _weeks_ on it does not gain us anything,” Lexa voice was quiet but sharp, “Perfect is the enemy of finished.”

 

Clarke stared at her incredulously before responding, “Perfect is the enemy of finished? Well, mediocrity is the enemy of progress.”

 

Lexa pursed her lips, “Finish the concepts. By tomorrow. I’m going to go tell Mr. Jaha to push the presentation up. Not only will the client be happy with the work you’ve done, they’ll be thrilled we’re delivering ahead of schedule.”

 

Lexa turned sharply to leave, but Clarke surged forward, grabbing her boss by the shoulder before she could make it to the door.

 

“Wait a second,” Clarke demanded.

 

Lexa froze. Eventually, she turned her head cooly to stare at Clarke’s hand, which was still latched onto her shoulder. Lexa said nothing, but Clarke snatched her hand back as though she’d been burned.

 

“Sorry,” Clarke began after a moment, realizing that she’d have to address Lexa’s back as the other woman didn’t seem to be turning around, “I didn’t mean to grab you, but I just don’t think it’s very fair of you to waltz in here, when you barely know this client or my work, and presume to tell me how to do my job.”

 

The longer Lexa continued to stand, still and silent, the more Clarke began to wonder if she had actually pushed it too far this time. What if this was her last day on the job? Just as her brain started to spiral down into a jumble of potential new job opportunities, Lexa turned around.

 

“Barely know this client,” Lexa repeated, the words hardly more than a whisper.

 

Clarke held her gaze defiantly, though part of her wanted to back down, apologize, and defuse the situation.

 

“This _client_ , Port City Brewing Company is based out of Alexandria and was founded in January 2011. They have an annual revenue of $6.8 million dollars, which has grown about 40% in the past two years. They were named small brewery of the year in 2015, and have collected numerous other awards over the years, would you like me to list some?”

 

Clarke shook her head, stomach sinking somewhere down by her feet and feeling like a complete idiot.

 

“Our day to day contact point is Emma, and she’s very excited by our work. She’s eager to help us in any way she can and has been a champion of ours when we present to her manager, Chris, and the founders, Bill and Karen.

 

“I’ve also studied several years worth of _your_ work, Ms. Griffin, from the time you started here as a designer to the most recent campaigns you directed. I think you have a remarkable amount of raw talent, a passion to keep pushing your work, and a highly intelligent mind.”

 

Lexa paused and tilted her head, her eyes blazing and searing right into Clarke, before continuing, “I’d say I know this client and your work a little more than _barely_ , wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“I-”

 

“So, please, don’t presume to tell me how to do _my_ job. I personally met with every single account at this agency - all the present clients and as many closed accounts as I could -  to assure that this would be a smooth transition. And even if I hadn’t, I know how to do my homework. I am a professional, which is more than I can say for you right now. Every hour you spend in here is an hour I lose you on another project that could use your talent. You’re being frivolous and, frankly, immature.”

 

Lexa paused, her gaze daring Clarke to disagree with her. Clarke’s heart hammered away inside her chest, but she said nothing.

 

“Your friend Ms. Blake is the account exec on this, isn’t she? I’ll stop by her desk on my way out and have her reschedule the presentation.”

 

Clarke watched, speechless, as Lexa left the room without waiting for a response. She wasn’t sure how many seconds or minutes passed while she stood there, frozen, but soon enough Octavia appeared, a confused expression painting her features.

 

“So, I guess we’re having an internal review on these concepts tomorrow?”

 

Clarke sighed, “What did she tell you?”

 

“That was pretty much it,” Octavia shrugged, “I’m supposed to schedule an internal review end of day tomorrow and check on client availability for the next few days.”

 

“She came in here to check up on me, asked what I was doing. I didn’t want to lie, so I told her the truth - that I was still pushing the concepts we talked about last time. She told me to finish them by tomorrow and I kind of accused her of not knowing the work or the client well enough to make that call,” Clarke explained.

 

“Clarke,” Octavia began, exasperation obvious in her voice.

 

“I _know_ , okay? I know.”

 

Clarke collapsed back down onto the couch and let her head fall into her hands.

 

“It’s just - we talked about this. Why do you have to push it with her?” Octavia asked, coming to sit next to her.

 

“I don’t know! There’s just something about her, the way she carries herself maybe, it makes me want to challenge her.”

 

“Well, can you please chill for a minute? I can’t lose this job, Clarke,” Octavia crossed her arms, her face hardened.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re not going to lose your job just because I talked back to Lexa.”

 

“ _Lexa_ , huh?” Octavia gave her a pointed look, “Well, whatever is going on between you and _Lexa_ \- leave it outside this office.”

 

“Octavia, come on -”

 

“I don’t _have_ anything, Clarke,” Octavia interrupted, her voice hushed. “No savings, no safety net, no family to fall back on. All I have is a shitload of debt. So just stop acting so entitled and do your fucking job.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Clarke asked, sitting up taller, “It’s not like I’m rolling in cash over here.”

 

“If you needed money - like ever _really_ needed it - your mom would throw it at you so fast,” Octavia said evenly.

 

“I wouldn’t take it.”

 

Octavia scoffed, “I’m sure you believe that.”

 

Clarke clenched her jaw; she could feel her pulse pick up its pace as her body prepared for another confrontation.

 

“Listen, Griff - I don’t want to fight again. You know I love you, right? I’m not saying this to try and hurt you, I just want you to understand where I’m coming from. I’ve worked so hard to get here and I can’t fuck around with this job, okay? This is _real_. It’s important.”

 

Clarke deflated, falling back against the couch cushions. She took a deep breath and nodded to herself before looking back over to Octavia.

 

“You’re right,” Clarke said, “I’m sorry. I need to get a handle on myself; I can’t let this keep happening. Can you do me a favor and grab my laptop? I think I need to just work in here the rest of the day so I don’t risk seeing Le - Ms. Heda.”

 

Octavia nodded and gave Clarke’s leg a reassuring pat before she stood.

 

“No problem, you want some company? I can grab my laptop too,” Octavia offered.

 

Clarke’s first instinct was to decline - she was still angry and frustrated and she didn’t particularly want to chat. But this was _Octavia_ , and Clarke knew her best friend would give her as much space as she needed. Plus, if Lexa came back it would probably be better to have another person around.

 

“That would be really nice, O, thank you,” Clarke responded sincerely.

 

“Ride or die, bitch,” Octavia grinned as she popped out of the small conference room.

 

The two friends worked through the afternoon without further incident, unless you can count an impromptu singalong to “Bitch” by Meredith Brooks (which Octavia put on to break the silence) as an _incident_. At around 5:30, Octavia started rustling some papers loudly.

 

“I’ll be done in ten minutes,” Clarke said without looking up.

 

“Oh,” Octavia sounded surprised, “how’d you know I was ready to go?”

 

“You only stack papers when you want to leave. We’ve been in here for like four hours and you didn’t touch any of your folders until a couple of minutes ago. I know your tells, Blake.”

 

Octavia laughed, “Well I don’t want to rush you. Are you sure you’ll be ready for a review tomorrow?”

 

Clarke nodded as she continued to make a few last tweaks to the screens she had been working on, “Yeah, these were pretty much done, to be honest. I’ll just regroup with the rest of the team in the morning and make sure everyone is on the same page. I’m sure we will be.”

 

“So,” Octavia added after a few moments, “I guess you could say Ms. Heda was right then.”

 

Clarke glared over the top of her laptop screen, “Don’t push it.”

 

Octavia chuckled, “Just saying, maybe she’s not a total idiot. Could be something to keep in mind next time before you bite her head off.”

 

Clarke scowled back at her friend before looking down to finish what she had been doing. She saved her work and shut down her laptop, sighing.

 

“It’s not even that though. I _know_ she’s not an idiot,” Clarke explained. “It’d be easier if she were.”

 

Octavia shook her head, “Whatever.”

 

Clarke shrugged and continued packing her bag as Octavia stood and stretched her arms up over her head.

 

“So what are you up to tonight, anyway? Want to hang?” Octavia asked.

 

“I think I’m gonna head home and paint, actually,” Clarke said, pulling her coat on.

 

“Oh yeah?” Octavia’s eyes widened in excitement, “I didn’t know you had started painting again! That’s awesome!”

 

“Yeah. Inspiration just, kind of, hit me - or whatever.”

 

“Oooh, write that down. That’ll make an amazing artist’s statement whenever you decide to show your work,” Octavia grinned.

 

“Shut up,” Clarke laughed.

 

She nudged her shoulder against Octavia’s as they walked out of the conference room. Before Clarke could brace herself for her friend’s retaliation, she locked eyes with Lexa. The other woman was standing across the office, listening in on a meeting for another project. Clarke didn’t think she was doing much listening, though, if her stare was any indication.

 

Octavia’s answering shove caught Clarke off balance, and she stumbled for a couple of steps before Octavia grabbed her by the elbow and straightened her up.

 

“Geez, sorry Griff,” Octavia told her, laughing, “I didn’t think I hit you that hard.”

 

“No, totally my bad. I'm out of it.”

 

Clarke smiled at Octavia before looking back toward Lexa. The other woman’s attention was now fully on the presentation, and Clarke wondered, embarrassed, if she had seen the blunder.

 

“So what are you painting, anyway?” Octavia asked as they walked out of the office.

 

“It’s just an abstract thing, I don’t really know how it’s going to end up yet. It might be total shit, I haven’t done anything like this in years.”

 

“I’m sure it’s awesome,” Octavia said, “Show me when you’re done?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Clarke replied, hurrying to catch the open elevator door, “Probably won’t be for a few more weeks. Oils take forever.”

 

“Yes!” Octavia nodded, excited, “I know that! I know an art thing! Thanks, Lincoln!”

 

Clarke laughed and punched the lobby button before asking, “He’s coming this weekend, right?”

 

“Yup, tomorrow night, actually. You wanna get brunch or lunch or something on Saturday?”

 

“Absolutely,” Clarke answered as they walked out into the lobby.

 

“Not too early, though. I’ve got plans for that boy that will probably go late into the night on Friday,” Octavia waggled her eyebrows.

 

“Don’t need to hear that, O, I already assumed,” Clarke sighed, pushing open the door, “We know each other too well.”

 

“No way! If we knew each other too well you’d also already know that I haven’t masterbated in, like, a week in anticipation.”

 

“Honestly, I think part of me knew that too,” Clarke shrugged.

 

“Awww, I’m touched,” Octavia pressed her hand to her heart, “Just not, you know, literally.”

 

Clarke laughed, nodding in the opposite direction, “On that note, goodnight my dear Octavia. Stay strong tonight.”

 

“Your support means everything to me,” Octavia said solemnly, before breaking into a smile and waving, “Night.”

 

Clarke slipped her headphones over her ears and trudged home through the few slushy inches of snow that had fallen earlier in the week. Once she made it back to her apartment, she snacked on some crackers; she figured she’d eat a real dinner after she made progress on her painting.

 

Clarke looked over at her easel, studying her work so far. Over the past couple of weeks, she had built upon the canvas that she angrily started after her first confrontation with Lexa. Well, not _first_ first, because there was actually that time in the bar _first_ , but first _work_ confrontation. Clarke frowned; it was probably not a good sign that she had to differentiate between first fights she had with her boss. She shook her head to clear her thoughts - she would not think about Lexa tonight.

 

Resolved, Clarke changed clothes, poured a glass of wine, put on some music, and set to work. She painted for a couple of hours, applying thick, rich waves of color - mostly with her palette knife, but occasionally with a large brush. The piece was finally starting to come together, the composition beginning to really take shape and match what she had seen in her head weeks earlier.

 

Clarke’s phone starting buzzing mid-stroke and she cursed softly, annoyed that she hadn’t remembered to put it on silent. She balanced her knife on the side of her palette and wiped her hands on the small towel she had hanging out of her pocket. She glanced at her phone; the name Abby clearly printed on the screen. Clarke’s eyes widened as she tried to decide whether or not to answer. They hadn’t spoken in a few months, not since Clarke called for her mom’s birthday in October and they both suffered through an uncomfortable and stilted five minute conversation.

 

Clarke sighed deeply and then picked up her phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

There was a short pause before her mother answered, “Clarke, hi. It’s mom.”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke rolled her eyes, “I know. What’s up?”

 

“Oh, nothing really.”

 

“Cool,” Clarke responded after realizing her mom wasn’t going to add anything else.

 

“Yes,” Abby added.

 

“So did you want something or?”

 

“Clarke, there’s no need to take a tone.”

 

“You called me, Abby,” Clarke bit out, “Usually people do that when they have something to say.”

 

There was a lengthy silence before Abby responded, “I just - I wanted to hear your voice. I didn’t expect you to pick up; I was planning on leaving a message. You caught me off guard, I’m sorry.”

 

Clarke softened, “Well, you got the real deal. So, hi.”

 

“How are you? How were your holidays?”

 

“I’m fine, good,” Clarke nodded, “You know, kind of the usual. Things at work are - well, they’re actually a little crazy right now. Our company just got bought by a larger company, so we’re all figuring out how things are going to change. I got a pretty nice bonus check, though.”

 

“That sounds exciting, do you like the new leadership?” Abby sounded genuinely interested.

 

“The jury’s still out on that one,” Clarke frowned.

 

“Well that’s okay, it’s still new, right? You’ll figure it all out.”

 

“Sure, yeah,” Clarke offered, “How are things with you?”

 

“With me? Oh alright. Same old, same old. The hospital is always short-staffed, it seems, no matter how many new doctors we get.”

 

Clarke smiled; she remembered.

 

“I actually just got off shift,” her mother continued, “It’s part of the reason why I wanted to call.”

 

“How come?”

 

“There was a girl today, she -” her mother breathed sharply, “Clarke, she looked just like you. It was uncanny.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“She didn’t make it, unfortunately.”

 

“Oh,” Clarke repeated, unsure of what to say.

 

“I just - it’s been months. I know we aren’t the closest, but, Clarke, I don’t want it to go this long again, ok? Do you understand?” Abby’s voice was thick.

 

Clarke sat down heavily before replying, “Yeah, I - Yeah.”

 

“And your holidays? How were they?” Her mother asked after a pause.

 

“Oh, um, yeah. They were, you know. Fine. Octavia and I organized some stuff with a few of her relatives. It was nice.”

 

“And did - was it Finn? Did Finn go with you?”

 

Clarke clenched her jaw unconsciously, “Finn and I broke up.”

 

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Abby apologized quickly.

 

“It’s fine, you didn’t know,” Clarke reply was clipped.

 

“Was it - Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, we’re not going to do this,” Clarke stated flatly.

 

“I’m sorry, I -”

 

“It’s _fine_ , but, listen, you caught me in the middle of something. So I’m gonna go, okay?”

 

“Oh,” Abby said, “Sure, yes. Thank you for answering, honey.”

 

Clarke sighed, “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

“Yes, please. Not in four months,” her mother said pointedly.

 

“I said I _get_ it.”

 

“I was just teasing,” Abby said quietly.

 

“Oh,” Clarke closed her eyes, “right. Sorry.”

 

“I love you, sweetie.”

 

Clarke paused, swallowing the lump that had taken residence in her throat, “I love you, too. Have a good night, bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Clarke ended the call and flung her phone down on the couch next to her before leaning back and bringing her hands up to cover her face. She took several deep breaths, letting the anger and sadness and frustration that always came when she spoke to her mother wash over her. _Fuck this,_ she decided abruptly, _I’m going to get drunk._

 

*****

 

“Okay, okay,” Clarke had been laughing, but she schooled her face into a very serious expression, “Anya.”

 

“Clarke,” Anya replied as she wiped down the bar.

 

“I have to do a shot with you,” Clarke nodded very somberly.

 

“With me? Didn’t you just do a bunch with your friends?”

 

“Yes, but they’re _gone_ , Anya. You took their money and now they’re gone,” Clarke explained, “That means it’s up to you. This is a very serious honor I’m giving you, you know.”

 

“Mmm,” Anya hummed, “An honor you’ve shared with like half the people in this bar tonight?”

 

“You have an attitude,” Clarke scowled.

 

“Drink this,” Anya slid a glass of water across the bar toward her, “And then I’ll do a shot with you.”

 

“Fiiine,” Clarke whined.

 

She took a few small sips from the glass before realizing that the water actually felt amazing, in every possible way. She guzzled down a long gulp.

 

“Anya, this is excellent water,” Clarke commented between swallows.

 

“Only the finest.”

 

Clarke drank most of the glass while Anya served a few other customers. She finished the last sip and was about to call for Anya when she realized that Lexa had shown up. Clarke felt the weight of Lexa’s stare just a moment before she saw the other woman sit down at the bar. Everything felt scripted, but in a strange and intangible way, and Clarke returned the gaze heavily.

 

“Yeah, okay, I changed my mind about the shot. You’re cut off now, I think,” Anya commented dryly from behind the bar as she watched Clarke and Lexa.

 

“Whatever,” Clarke replied, not breaking eye contact with Lexa, “Send her a whiskey from me.”

 

“Clarke.”

 

“Thanks, Anya,” Clarke finally tore her eyes away from Lexa to look expectantly at the bartender.

 

Anya sighed, but did as Clarke asked. Clarke watched Anya serve Lexa, wishing she could read lips. Lexa stared down into the whiskey and took a couple of deep breaths after Anya walked away before she looked up. She stood abruptly, walked over, and sat down on the empty stool next to Clarke.

 

“Thank you for the whiskey, Clarke, but it’s not necessary. I’ve asked Anya to put it on my tab, instead.”

 

Clarke just continued to stare, not sure what to say.

 

“I thought you were angry with me,” Lexa commented.

 

“I was - am,” Clarke agreed.

 

“Then why send me a drink?” She asked.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Lexa nodded, and took a long drink.

 

“Okay,” she said finally.

 

Lexa was so calm - so _composed_ \- while Clarke felt like she was drowning just from watching Lexa sip a drink. Her anger came roaring back.

 

“Do you even care?” Clarke spat suddenly

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“About, like, anything?”

 

“Clarke,” Lexa began warily.

 

“No,” Clarke interrupted, “I mean - you come in and you just, you absolutely tear me down at work. And you _stare_ at me - like all the time. But it's like nothing actually gets through to you.”

 

“Clarke.”

 

“What? Is this too much emotion for you? Can't handle it?” Clarke growled.

 

Lexa pursed her lips, but said nothing.

 

“I _really_ care about my work, Lexa. Can't you understand it's important to me? Jesus, you know what? Never mind.”

 

Clarke slid off her stool, shrugged on her coat as quickly as she could and stalked out of the bar, not sparing Lexa another glance. She barely made it twenty feet out the door before she felt a hand close tight around her forearm and tug. She spun around and there was Lexa, her expression unreadable, standing in front of her. She wasn’t wearing a coat, and a few strands of hair that had pulled free of her tight bun were dancing gently in the wind.

 

“Clarke,” Lexa said again, more firmly than she had in the bar.

 

Clarke didn’t respond, just crossed her arms and stared back at Lexa defiantly.

 

“I do care,” Lexa paused, long and meaningful and heavy as her eyes swept over Clarke and drank in every detail, “about some things.”

 

Clarke fought a shiver, hugged her coat more tightly around her frame, but didn’t respond.

 

“I care about my company succeeding, first and foremost,” Lexa was standing so _close_ and Clarke clenched her fists around the fabric of her coat so she didn’t do something stupid, “It’s the only thing I have.”

 

They stood and stared and stared and Clarke wanted to say, “It’s the only thing you will let yourself have,” but it was not her place. She had only known Lexa for a handful of hours, really, and she had no right to make those kind of claims. Clarke still did not know what to say.

 

“Get some sleep, Clarke,” Lexa sighed, shuffling a step back, “I’ll be at your internal review tomorrow."

 

Lexa turned without waiting for a response and went back to the bar. Clarke watched the whole time, waiting to see if Lexa would look back - but she didn’t. Clarke inhaled shakily and finally turned around to head back home. She walked in a bit of a daze, the alcohol and the conversation and _Lexa_ making her unfocused. It wasn’t until she was inside her apartment, pulling her wallet out of her coat pocket, that she realized she had stormed out of the bar without paying.

 

She grabbed her phone and found Anya’s number in her recent calls, then opened up a new text message.

 

_Shit, forgot to pay my tab -_  
can u cover and ill get u   
back ASAP? 

 

She fired off a second text after pausing for just a moment.

 

_It's Clarke btw_

 

If Clarke had been thinking more clearly, she would’ve waited longer than a couple of minutes for a response since Anya probably didn’t have immediate access to her phone when she was behind the bar. Maybe she was just looking for another reason to be angry, maybe she wanted to try to see Lexa again - whatever the reason, Clarke found herself pulling on her boots, bundling up, and heading back out into the cold night at 1:28am.

 

Clarke was only a block away from Wonderland when she felt her phone buzz within her pocket. She tugged her mitten off with her teeth before unpocketing the phone.

 

_You sure did. But Lexa_  
paid it, so you can get   
her back ASAP. 

 

“Fuck,” Clarke muttered to herself.

 

She leaned against the side of the building. She was cold and tired and still a little drunk, and not sure how to respond to Anya’s obvious annoyance. She figured any apology she sent now, as Anya was trying to close down, wouldn’t be enough, so she settled on typing out a quick thanks. Just as she was tugging her mitten back onto her hand, she heard a loud, deep voice.

 

“What’s good, baby? You lonely?”

 

Before Clarke was even able to identify which direction the voice had come from, Lexa was somehow at her side. She gave Clarke’s shoulder a quick squeeze and urged her away from the wall and back around the corner in the direction Clarke had just come from.

 

“Come on,” Lexa said, slightly out of breath, “This way.”

 

Clarke stumbled after her, her brain barely able to keep up.

 

“Quickly,” Lexa said, falling back in step with Clarke.

 

Clarke felt pressure on the small of her back as Lexa’s hand guided and steadied her. Clarke tried to speed up while still being mindful of the occasional ice patch.

 

“ _Two_ beautiful ladies, it must be our lucky night,” another voice called out, and there was laughter in response.

 

“Don’t look back,” Lexa whispered, “Just keep walking.”

 

Clarke nodded, not trusting her voice. They walked side by side, shoulders brushing for almost another block. Just as Clarke was starting to hope that they had lost the guys, one of them began to howl.

 

“Fuck,” Clarke winced, more legitimately frightened than she had been in a while.

 

“Where do you live?” Lexa breathed.

 

“On this street, but the other side, across Georgia just like half a block.”

 

Thankfully they made it across the main street without stopping, as there weren’t a lot of cars out on the road after one in the morning. Clarke could see her building.

 

“Why y’all in a rush? We just want to talk to you,” a _third_ voice added, the rest laughing, sounding closer than before.

 

“Get your keys out now, don’t slow down.”

 

“You’re coming in with me,” Clarke said.

 

Lexa looked for a second like she was going to argue, but gave Clarke a curt nod.

 

“The next building,” Clarke warned Lexa.

 

They weren’t quite running, but it was close, as they climbed the front steps.

 

“If you wanna invite us in you just have to ask!”

 

More laughter. Clarke’s heart was racing, but her hands were steady, and she opened the door quickly. She ushered Lexa inside, made sure the front door clicked shut behind her, and gestured toward the staircase.

 

“Second floor,” Clarke said, before a bang on the door made her jump.

 

They climbed the stairs in silence, waiting to see if the men would try anything else.

 

“On your right, apartment two-eleven,”

 

Clarke let Lexa in, and locked the door behind them. She turned around and leaned back against the front door, adrenaline shooting through her veins.

 

“Has that ever happened to you before?” The set of Lexa’s jaw made it very clear how she felt about the idea of it.

 

“No - nothing like that has ever,” Clarke tried to swallow away the dry fear in her mouth, shaking her head, “No.”

 

Lexa nodded and Clarke pushed herself off the door. She moved into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the dishrack on her counter.

 

“Would you like some water?”

 

“No, thank you,” Lexa exhaled heavily, “I need to get going. It’s late.”

 

“Lexa,” Clarke said incredulously, “Come on, please stay a couple of minutes. Just in case.”

 

Lexa pursed her lips, frustration written clearly on her face, but inclined her head in a thoughtful nod, “Alright.”

 

“Thank you,” Clarke said, “You can have a seat, if you want.”

 

Lexa nodded again and walked further into Clarke’s apartment. It wasn’t very big - in fact, the kitchen opened into the living room over the countertop, so Clarke watched her as she poured a second glass of water from the tap. Lexa moved tentatively in Clarke’s space, her eyes wide and her movements careful and small. Clarke worked slowly, wanting to study Lexa for as long as possible. The other woman stopped in front of Clarke’s easel, the canvas she had been working on earlier in the night still in progress and on display.

 

“That’s not done,” Clarke called softly across the room, “The painting, I mean - I’m still working on it.”

 

Lexa spun around quickly at the sound of Clarke’s voice, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Clarke shrugged, carrying the water glasses into the living room, “I just meant, like, if you think it sucks. It’s not done.”

 

“Clarke, it’s incredible.”

 

Lexa’s voice sounded so _reverent_ , and Clarke wasn’t sure what to make of it.

 

“Oh, I - thanks.”

 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Lexa tilted her head thoughtfully, “I’ve seen a lot of your digital work, as I mentioned this afternoon. But there’s something different about this. Something _more_.”

 

Heat rushed to Clarke’s cheeks, and she was thankful for the excuse of setting down the water glasses so she wouldn’t have to look at Lexa any longer. Just as she was standing back up, Lexa spoke again.

 

“I don’t mean to tear you down,” Lexa practically whispered, “Not at work, not ever.”

 

Clarke’s gaze snapped up, “Oh, no, it’s -”

 

“If I’m hard on you, it’s because I see how talented you are. And I -” Lexa paused, considering her words carefully, “It’s probably not fair to you. I’m sorry.”

 

Clarke nodded, unwilling to trust her voice.

 

“It’s just - I got this company when I was so young; I had to be severe, ruthless even, in order for it to succeed.”

 

“Maybe life should be about more than just bottom lines and shareholders. Aren’t you tired of it sometimes?”

 

“Maybe I am.”

 

Lexa was staring, _again_ , her gaze intense as it dipped lower to Clarke’s lips. And then all of a sudden Lexa was moving; she surged forward, reaching out to cup Clarke’s jaw, and kissed her soundly. Clarke reacted without thinking, the surprise of it barely registering as Lexa’s soft and insistent lips worked against her own. A switch flipped inside Clarke’s sternum.

 

She slipped her arm around Lexa’s waist, digging her hand into the soft fabric of the other woman’s coat as she drew her closer. Words that seemed less like words and more like colors danced inside Clarke's mind: _Melt. Lush. Ignite._ The words swirled and meshed and bounced and nothing made sense.

 

The need for oxygen pulled them apart and jolted Clarke back to reality. When Lexa went to kiss her again, Clarke let go and pulled back.

 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke managed after a few ragged breaths, “I -”

 

“No, _I’m_ sorry. That was,” Lexa interrupted, her voice weak and eyes wide, “That was _completely_ inappropriate. I don’t - I’m going to go.”

 

Lexa turned on her heel and rushed to the door. She almost had all of the locks undone by the time Clarke caught up to her.

 

“Lexa, just wait a second,” Clarke insisted, her hand hovering a few inches about Lexa’s shoulder, afraid to make contact again.

 

Lexa shook her head, almost knocking into Clarke as she stepped back to pull open the door.

 

“Lock up after me,” Lexa said before escaping into the hall and closing the door gently behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, it took Octavia all of fifteen minutes to figure out that something was up with Clarke.

 

“Are you high?” She whispered sharply as they loitered in the office kitchen, waiting to make coffee on the large single-serve machine.

 

“What? No,” Clarke scoffed, though she didn’t meet Octavia’s eyes as she fidgeted with her mug.

 

Octavia’s only response was to squint and stare harder at her friend.

 

“Will you stop looking at my pupils or whatever? I’m not high,” Clarke argued.

 

Octavia pursed her lips, still looking unconvinced.

 

“Well, if you’re not high, then what the fuck is your deal?” She asked as she stepped up to the now unoccupied coffee maker. “You keep looking at the door about every thirty seconds. I haven’t seen you act this paranoid since that time I convinced you to have an edible over lunch a few years back.”

 

“Wow, I had almost forgotten about that. You’re a real asshole of a friend, Blake,” Clarke replied grumpily. 

 

Octavia shrugged, not sparing Clarke a glance as she watched her mug fill with coffee.

 

“How was I supposed to know your client was going to show up for a surprise visit that afternoon? Whatever, it worked out fine anyway. You have a certain goofy charm about you when you’re high.  _ Usually _ , at least.” Octavia added pointedly.

 

Clarke sighed, anxious to get back to her desk, put her headphones on, and try her damnedest to fade away from existence into her office chair. As soon as Octavia took her coffee, Clarke set her mug down and punched the combination of buttons that would get the machine brewing another cup.

 

“So you’re really not going to tell me?” Octavia asked.

 

“I’m really not,” Clarke replied as she focused on her coffee.

 

“Is this about  _ you know who?”  _ Octavia pried again after a few blessed moments of silence.

 

Clarke startled. Octavia was standing mere inches behind her, her voice loud in Clarke’s ear.

 

“Jesus, O,” Clarke shifted, putting space in between them, “No. It’s not. I just- my mom called me last night out of the blue. It put me on edge.”

 

_ Not a total lie,  _ Clarke thought to herself as she pulled her coffee away from the machine.

 

“Oh,” Octavia softened, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

 

Clarke shrugged as the pair fell into step walking out of the kitchen.

 

“I don’t feel like talking,” Clarke explained quietly. 

 

_ Also not a lie. _

 

Octavia nodded before breaking off in the direction of her desk, “Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me. Otherwise, I’ll see you at 3:30 for the review.”

 

“Thanks,” Clarke smiled at her best friend as her stomach twisted itself into knots. It was going to be a long day.

 

*****

 

At 3:28pm, Lexa swept into the office with purposeful strides. She didn’t stop to greet Jaha, she didn’t make herself a coffee or chat with any of the employees; Lexa made a beeline for the internal review, her long coat billowing behind her as she stalked down the hall. Clarke watched her approach through the glass that comprised one wall of the conference room, and tried to swallow down the lump that had been stuck in her throat since the night before.

 

“Ms. Blake, Mr. Green, Ms. Monroe, Ms. Griffin,” Lexa nodded her greeting as she slipped off her coat, draping it on the back of a chair, “Thank you so much for making time for this review, I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Not a problem at all, Ms. Heda. Can I get you anything before we get started?” Octavia gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

 

“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” Lexa sat down at the head of the conference room table with a notebook and pen in hand, “I do have a few meetings to attend after this, so please begin as soon as you’re ready.”

 

Clarke stared down at her notes while Octavia set the scene for the meeting, willing herself not to look at Lexa a moment sooner than the presentation required. She  _ wanted _ to look, of course; she was aching to. Their kiss had done nothing to dull the incredibly strong and incredibly frustrating magnetic pull that came with Lexa’s presence.

 

“Clarke.”

 

“Hmm?” 

 

Clarke glanced up, immediately noticing Octavia’s tight (read: fake) smile.  _ Oops _ .

 

“Yes,” Clarke added without further prompting, “Thank you, Ms. Blake.”

 

Clarke slipped into her client-facing persona; she tuned out the part of her brain that wouldn’t stop whispering “Lexa” on repeat and focused on the work. The work was good, she knew that, and she wanted Lexa -  _ Ms. Heda _ \- to see it as well. Clarke went through the presentation smoothly, occasionally pausing to let Monty and Zoe chime in about the development process and user experience implications. She focused on Lexa as she spoke, because she had to, but she tried to look through her rather than at her. Lexa held Clarke’s gaze, face unreadable, only looking away to take notes. 

 

“Any questions?” Clarke finished her presentation, the summary slide displaying on the large conference room screen.

 

“None. Thank you all so much,” Lexa said as she finished scribbling one last note before looking up, “That was absolutely fantastic; I think the presentation will go very well. Ms. Blake, do we have a time confirmed?”

 

“I sent them some initial options and they are just deciding between Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. They’ll let me know by the end of the day - would you like me to invite you?”

 

“No, that won’t be necessary. My week is packed, and I have every confidence in this team to deliver a win,” Lexa stood up sharply and started to gather her things, “I just have a few notes - minor suggestions. Ms. Blake, I’ll type them up from the car so you can distribute them this afternoon.”

 

“Sure, that’s great,” Octavia replied, standing quickly to walk Lexa to the door.

 

“No need to see me out, I know the way by now,” Lexa said as she pulled on her coat, “Have a nice weekend, you’ve all earned it.”

 

Lexa took one last moment to flash a small smile toward the conference table before leaving; she didn’t spare Clarke another look. 

 

“I guess that went well?” Monty asked tentatively as soon as the door swung shut behind Lexa, “Ms. Heda is kind of hard to read.”

 

Zoe nodded, “I think so. She seems like the honest type, so she would’ve probably been pretty blunt if she didn’t like it. Right, Clarke?”

 

“Hmm?” Clarke’s gaze snapped from the direction Lexa had went and back toward her co-workers, “Oh, yeah. I think so, too.”

 

“We’ll see what kind of  _ notes _ she sends through,” Octavia added, collecting her things from the table, “But, yeah, I think tentative congratulations are in order. And it looks like I actually got an email from the client during the meeting - we’re on for Tuesday at 11am - so I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think we deserve to cut out of here early.”

 

“You’re just saying that because your huge hunk of a boyfriend is going to be here any minute,” Zoe laughed.

 

Octavia nodded, “Yes, one hundred percent. Obviously.”

 

Zoe and Monty laughed and stood up, working together to straighten up the conference room table. Clarke was miles away, zoned out and staring at her computer.

 

“Clarke,” Zoe called softly, “You okay?”

 

Clarke looked up and smiled reassuringly, “Yeah, totally. Just thinking, sorry.”

 

“No problem, you did a great job though - you should turn that brain off for the weekend.”

 

“Yeah, and I know a very good way to power down a brain,” Monty chimed in, walking toward the conference room door, “First round’s on me.”

 

“Monty, you’re my favorite,” Zoe followed close behind him, “Clarke, you in?”

 

“Can’t tonight guys, sorry,” Clarke replied, apologetic, “Have fun, and good work today.”

 

“Aw, okay, next time,” Zoe replied.

 

“If you change your mind, text me,” Monty called over his shoulder as he held the door open for Zoe.

 

Clarke nodded back at him before starting to collect her things. 

 

“You’re really okay?” Octavia checked as soon as the door was shut once more, “I know I’ve been talking about Lincoln a lot, but if you need some company...” 

 

“Honestly, I am very much looking forward to some quality alone time tonight,” Clarke said as she stood, “You go have an amazing night and we’ll hang tomorrow, yeah?”

 

Octavia studied her for a beat longer before responding, “Okay, but please text me if you need something tonight. Promise?”

 

“Promise,” Clarke responded. It was an easy promise to make; she had no way to get in contact with the only person she needed something from anyway. 

 

*****

 

Clarke strolled up to the restaurant, a local favorite Octavia had suggested, the next morning just after 11am. It was a bright, crisp February D.C. morning, and Clarke swore she could smell the first hints of spring in the melting snow. She slid off her sunglasses, eyes adjusting to the dim, cozy space to scan for her friends. 

 

“Good morning,” the hostess greeted her, “Can I help you?”

 

“Morning. Table for three, please,” Clarke replied, confident she was the first one there; Lincoln’s stature made him hard to miss. The hostess smiled, grabbed a few menus, and led Clarke to a small table toward the back. 

 

“Can I get you any coffee or tea to start?” The hostess asked as Clarke pulled off her jacket.

 

“Coffee would be incredible, thank you,” Clarke replied.

 

The hostess grinned in response, “Coming right up.”

 

Clarke settled in at the table, feeling immediately at home with the gentle, string-heavy music filtering through the speakers. She glanced at the menu briefly; it had not changed since the last time she had come for brunch a few weeks ago. Clarke was exhausted. She had gone straight home after the meeting with the intention of getting some painting done, but when she stared at the canvas (for a good hour) nothing made sense. She finally gave up and settled in for a restless night of bad TV and fitful sleep. 

 

Just as she was about to pull out her phone to check the time, Clarke heard Octavia’s voice float across the restaurant.

 

“Nate! I didn’t know you were on during brunch!”

  
Clarke turned and found Octavia and Lincoln approaching the bar. Octavia pounded the bartender’s fist and introduced Lincoln. She watched the trio engage in small talk for a minute before Octavia gestured her way, waving. Clarke smiled and waved back. She got up to say hi, but hesitated when she noticed Octavia and Lincoln heading her way.

 

“Don’t worry, he’ll stop by the table - you remember Nate, right?” Octavia explained, “I ordered a round of Bloodys and told him to keep ‘em coming.”

 

“Clarke, hi,” Lincoln greeted warmly, his arms wide open for a hug.

 

“Hey Linc,” Clarke returned with a wide smile.

 

Lincoln hugged her tightly, lifting her feet a couple of inches off the ground. Clarke squeezed him back.

 

“It’s so good to see you,” he added, putting her down, “Been too long.”

 

“It has, how’s school?” Clarke asked as she sat back down.

 

“School’s fine, his thesis is great,” Octavia answered before Lincoln could open his mouth, “He’s totally awesome, in all ways. Okay, cool, now that that’s out of the way you’re telling me exactly what the fuck your deal was yesterday.”

 

Lincoln frowned and shrugged apologetically, but added nothing more to Octavia’s answer.

 

“She’s like a little pit bull sometimes, isn’t she?” Clarke asked, directing her question at Lincoln, “She just gets focused in, and good luck getting her to let go.”

 

“That’s a very good comparison,” Lincoln agreed.

 

“Ha ha,” Octavia said dryly, “You guys are hilarious. But, seriously, Clarke, are you okay?”

 

Clarke took a deep breath, but before she had the chance to respond the bartender, Nate, walked up to the table carrying a tray heavy with drinks.

 

“Three Bloody Marys and three coffees, both extra strong.”

 

“Thanks Nate, you’re the best,” Octavia said, “And this is my friend Clarke, by the way, I think you’ve met.”

 

“Nice to see you,” Clarke smiled, shaking Nate’s hand after he put the tray down, “How do you and Octavia know each other again?”

 

“Likewise, Clarke. Oh, we worked together  _ years _ ago at a swanky restaurant downtown. Octavia was the best hostess ever - she kept that place running so damn smooth,” Nate explained.

 

“It’s amazing how charming she can be when she wants to, isn’t it?” Lincoln said with a laugh, putting an arm around his girlfriend.

 

She pushed it off and gave him a little shove.

 

“You’re all dicks,” Octavia said, but her smile betrayed her, “Except you, Nate.”

 

“What an honor,” Nate quipped, “I’ve gotta get back behind the bar, though - talk to you guys later.”

 

He left with a grin and a wave.

 

“He’s cute,” Clarke commented, picking up her coffee.

 

“He really is,” Octavia nodded, “I had  _ such  _ a crush on him when we first started working together, but turns out he’s, like, suuuuuper gay. So I had to settle for Lincoln.”

 

Lincoln smiled around a sip of his coffee.

 

“Anyway,” Octavia picked up her Bloody Mary, “even though you’re both assholes - cheers.”

 

Clarke and Lincoln followed suit, lifting their glasses to meet in the middle of the table. Clarke took a sip; apparently when Nate said “extra strong” he wasn’t messing around.

 

“Alright, now that you’re getting properly boozed up, start talking Griff.”

 

Clarke sighed. It  _ would _ be good to have someone to talk to about everything, and Octavia was the most trustworthy person she knew. 

 

“Okay, if I tell you - can you promise me a few things?”

 

“Anything,” Octavia replied instantaneously.

 

“One - you can’t tell anyone else. This doesn’t leave the table and we don’t talk about it in earshot of anyone else we know,” Clarke held out her pointer finger.

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Two,” Clarke continued, ticking out another finger, “No lectures.”

 

Octavia hesitated, “I promise I will do my best.”

 

Clarke shook her head at her friend but soldiered on, putting out one last finger, “Three - please do not make too big a deal of this.”

 

“Sure, I will make an appropriately sized deal, got it.”

 

Coffee and vodka and nerves all roiled around in Clarke’s stomach. She took a long drink of water to try and calm down.

 

“On Thursday night,” Clarke paused, taking a deep breath, “Lexa and I kissed.”

 

“I fucking  _ knew  _ it,” Octavia exclaimed, though her eyes were wide with shock.

 

“Good morning,” a waitress had somehow appeared out of nowhere, ready to take their orders, “I see that you’ve got drinks already - y’all ready to order some food?”

 

“Yes,” Clarke said quickly, “Please.”

 

They went around the table placing their orders. Clarke took her time, doing her best to ignore the gaping expression on Octavia’s face. Lincoln ordered enough food for three, clearly at ease with being out of the loop. By the time the waitress finally got around to Octavia, she had at least somewhat recovered. She ordered quickly, thanked the server, and turned to Clarke.

 

“You seriously kissed her?”

 

“I thought you ‘ _ fucking knew it _ ,’” Clarke said, “Also, for the record  _ she _ kissed  _ me _ .”

 

Octavia blinked at her a few times before responding, “I mean I knew it was something about Lexa, of course, but Jesus. I didn’t think it would be this.”

 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Clarke replied sheepishly, “It was a whole thing - a really tense situation. And it just - she just - we kissed.”

 

“You and Ms. Heda - the new CEO and owner of our company - just  _ happened  _ to get stuck in some tense situation. And then you just  _ happened _ to kiss,” Octavia said, incredulous.

 

“You don’t have to believe me, but yes. That is exactly what happened,” Clarke took a sip of her drink, “Basically.”

 

“Heda,” Lincoln said abruptly, “Lexa Heda?”

 

“Yeah, babe, Lexa Heda -  _ our new boss, _ ” she directed that last part at Clarke, “I told you about this the other week.”

 

“I know her,” Lincoln added casually.

 

“What?!” Octavia and Clarke said in unison, both rounding on the man.

 

“Not very well, but, yes, I know her,” Lincoln took a sip of coffee.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Octavia demanded.

 

“The name didn’t register until right now,” Lincoln shrugged, “I haven’t thought about her in years.”

 

“How do you know her?” Clarke asked, unable to hide her excitement. 

 

“Our parents knew each other way back when. I only met her a few times as a kid, but I heard her father’s name often.”

 

“What was she like?” Clarke pressed. 

 

“Sorry Clarke,” Lincoln said, shaking his head, “I met a lot of kids through my parents’ business - I really don’t remember much. She was small. She had curly hair. She was quiet.”

 

“Okay, not that I’m not also kind of interested in hearing about hardass Heda as a child,” Octavia interjected, “but first I’m gonna need to circle back on that whole Clarke kissing our boss thing. And how incredibly stupid it was. Start from the beginning.”

 

So Clarke started from the beginning. She told Octavia and Lincoln how she had been home painting when a call from her mom had set her on edge. They both grimaced apologetically, knowing - Octavia more so than Lincoln - about Clarke’s history with her mother. She explained that she went to Wonderland partially to get some air and partially because she was out of alcohol at home, but ran into a few friends and ended up staying a while.

 

“You could’ve called,” Octavia said softly.

 

“I know,” Clarke replied, “but I really didn’t want to talk about it. Not right then, at least.”

 

Octavia nodded and let Clarke continue. She told them how Lexa showed up at the bar later on and how Clarke impulsively sent her a drink. Octavia made a face, but didn’t interrupt. Clarke explained how she and Lexa fought at the bar,  _ again _ . How Clarke, drunk and angry and stupid, had accused Lexa of not caring,  _ again.  _

 

“Clarke,” Octavia sounded tired.

 

“Yeah,” Clarke sighed, nodding, “Yeah. I stormed out after that, but she caught up to me outside the bar and it was just - I don’t know how to explain it even.”

 

“So she kissed you right outside a bar not even a mile from our office? I thought she was smarter than that.”

 

“No, no, we didn’t kiss then,” Clarke was quick to correct her.

 

“Oh, so what happened?” Octavia said just as their food came.

 

The server distributed the plates and left a new round of drinks “courtesy of Nate.” Octavia thanked her and waved at Nate before turning back toward the table.

 

“Okay, go on. What happened outside the bar?” Octavia gestured at Clarke with her fork before digging into her food.

 

Clarke paused, not sure how to describe it.

 

“She was just  _ different. _ Less in control, maybe? Like she wanted to say and do more, but she couldn’t. And  _ I _ wanted to grab her or kiss her or shake her, I don’t even know.”

 

“But you didn’t,” Octavia prompted around a mouth full of french toast.

 

“I didn’t,” Clarke confirmed and started to cut into her huevos rancheros, “I went home.”

 

“Good girl.”

 

Clarke glared at Octavia as she chewed her breakfast and, after swallowing, told them that she had made it all the way home before realizing she forgot to pay. Between bites, Clarke went on to describe the men that yelled at her and the way Lexa had swooped in like some kind of superhero.

 

“Holy shit, Clarke,” Octavia said.

 

Lincoln looked angry as he chimed in, “You’re alright?”

 

“I’m fine. If Lexa hadn’t been there though,” she trailed off and then shook her head, “Anyway, I made her come inside - the men were right behind us.”

 

Octavia nodded, “Yeah, totally. I would’ve done the same thing.”

 

“In my apartment she was  _ different _ again. Tentative, maybe. Looking around at everything, studying my painting. She apologized, actually, for being hard on me - for not being fair. We were talking and then all of a sudden she just kissed me.”

 

Clarke felt a blush creeping up her neck, so she took a long sip of bloody mary. Octavia and Lincoln were both looking at her expectantly.

 

“She just kissed you? Just like that?” Octavia prodded.

 

“Yeah, it totally caught me off guard.”

 

Lincoln grinned before he leaned closer and asked, “How was it?”

 

Clarke’s mouth dropped open in shock as Octavia laughed heartily.

 

“Babe! You’re such a gossip,” she told him, “Good question, though.”

 

“It was,” Clarke paused, still recovering from the surprise of Lincoln’s question, “fucking incredible.”

 

Lincoln smiled wider; he really was an incorrigible romantic.

 

“That’s wonderful, Clarke,” he said, “I’m so happy for you.”

 

“Well it was wonderful until I realized exactly what was happening and who I was kissing,” Clarke added wryly, “I pulled away as soon as my brain caught up. And Lexa just… she freaked. She apologized and bolted within about a minute. I tried to get her to stay and talk, but she wasn’t having it.”

 

“Sounds like it was a surprise for both of you,” Lincoln said softly.

 

“I guess you could say that, yeah,” Clarke sighed.

 

“What are you going to do now?” Octavia asked. She was frowning, but her tone was not unkind.

 

Clarke shrugged, shaking her head, “No idea, really. Ignore it, I guess? I can’t imagine she’ll ever bring it up again willingly.”

 

Clarke pushed the last few bites of food around on her plate, not sure what else to add. She saw Octavia and Lincoln exchange a look out of the corner of her eye before hearing Octavia take a deep breath.

 

“I don’t know, Clarke, isn’t that what you tried to do last time?”

 

“Last time? There’s no last time,” Clarke sputtered. 

 

“I know you didn’t  _ kiss _ before, but the two of you have had a thing since you met. And it’s getting worse, obviously,” Octavia said evenly, hands out in front of her as though she were talking to a spooked horse.

 

Clarke’s first instinct was to argue, but after a few moments of consideration she could admit Octavia was right. She and Lexa did have a  _ thing _ , whatever that meant. For some reason, she was finding it nearly impossible to stay away from the other woman. And now all Clarke wanted to do was kiss her again.

 

“That might be true, but what am I supposed to do? I don’t have her number, and I’m not going to  _ email  _ her about this - Jesus, that would be a disaster. Do I say something at the office? Won’t that make things worse?” Clarke wondered, trying not to let her frustration get the best of her.

 

Octavia pursed her lips, thinking for a few moments before responding, “Hey what about Anya? She has to have Lexa’s number, right?”

 

“That’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had. You think she’ll give it to me?” 

 

“Only one way to find out,” Octavia replied, “Just do it now, before you lose your nerve.”

 

Clarke nodded, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. 

 

“Wait,” she said suddenly, “I’ve been drinking. Should I really do this?”

 

Octavia opened her mouth to answer, but Clarke shushed her and pointed toward her boyfriend instead.

 

“Lincoln, you’re the voice of reason here - what do I do?”

 

Lincoln looked between the two of them, his face calm and impassive, before nodding.

 

“Do it.”

 

Clarke bobbed her head once in agreement and unlocked her phone.

 

“You are rude,” Octavia said dryly before sipping on her drink.

 

“Yup,” Clarke agreed as she started typing out a message.

 

_ Hi Anya, it’s Clarke again.  _ __   
_ Sorry to bother you, but  _ __   
_ could you maybe give me  _ _   
_ __ Lexa’s number?

 

Clarke read it out to her friends to make sure it sounded okay. Not surprisingly, they had gotten wrapped up in one another as Clarke typed, so she had to read it twice to get their attention. They both gave her a distracted thumbs up, which Clarke figured was good enough.

 

Almost immediately, three dots appeared on the screen to signal Anya’s typing. She stopped and started several times before the next message came through.

 

_ I’m not sure that’s such  _ _   
_ _ a good idea, Clarke. _

 

“Fuck,” Clarke said, showing them the message, “Do you think she knows?”

 

“That looks like some protective shit, yeah,” Octavia agreed, sounding impressed.

 

“Fuck,” Clarke repeated.

 

“Maybe put the ball in her court? Just ask Anya to pass along your number or something?” Lincoln offered.

 

“Okay, yeah,” Clarke agreed, typing again.

 

_ I’m not trying to start  _ __   
_ anything - I just want to talk  _ __   
_ to her. Could you give her  _ __   
_ my number? Please? And  _ __   
_ if she doesn’t want to use it,  _ _   
_ __ she doesn’t have to.

 

Clarke stared at her phone for a while, knowing Anya had probably read the message immediately. There was no response.

 

“Well, I think I fucked this one up,” Clarke sighed, pulling her wallet out of her jacket pocket, “I need to go home, crawl under some blankets, and never leave.”

 

“Clarke,” Octavia started, her tone uncharacteristically gentle.

 

“No, it’s fine. It was worth a shot - I’m not mad,” Clarke explained as she counted her money, “Is thirty enough? Probably not. I’ll just Venmo you, okay? Text me the total.”

 

Clarke stood up abruptly, anxious to get home. Lincoln stood too, his arms opening automatically, and Clarke almost felt like crying in his embrace. He didn’t say anything, simply squeezed her tight.

 

“Sorry I killed brunch,” Clarke mumbled into his shoulder.

 

“No apology needed,” Lincoln said as they let go, “It was nice to see you; nothing is dead.”

 

She smiled at him and looked to Octavia, “He’s too good for you.”

 

“I know,” Octavia agreed, “You sure you’re okay?”

 

“Yes, definitely. Thank you guys for listening - it actually felt good to talk about it. Enjoy the rest of your weekend together,” Clarke tried to smile.

 

“Call me,” Octavia said, “Literally anytime.”

 

“Of course,” Clarke threw over her shoulder as she walked away, “Thank you.”

 

Clarke did her best to rush out of the restaurant without  _ looking  _ like she was running away. One wave to Nate and a forced smile at the hostess later, Clarke found herself outside blinking rapidly at the bright sunshine. She slipped on her sunglasses and headed home at a brisk pace, trying not to think about Lexa. She was unsuccessful.

 

A few blocks from her apartment Clarke felt her phone buzz; she nearly dropped it in her haste to pry it out of her pocket. There was a text from a 202 number she didn’t recognize:

 

_ Hello, it’s Lexa. You wanted  _ _   
_ _ to talk? _

 

Clarke nearly dropped the phone again.

 

_ Thanks for responding, I didn’t  _ __   
_ think Anya would pass along  _ _   
_ __ my number.

 

Clarke sent the message and then immediately started typing again. If she was going to be bold today, she might as well go for broke.

 

_ Would you come over?  _ __   
_ I think it would be easier _ __   
_ to talk in person if you don’t  _ __   
_ mind. I’m on my way there, _ __   
_ should be back in less than  _ _   
_ __ 10 min.

 

There was no reply right away, and Clarke wondered if Lexa was as mixed up about all this as she was. Finally, as Clarke turned onto her street, her phone buzzed once more.

 

_ Alright, I’m on my way.  _ __   
_ Approximately 7 minutes  _ _   
_ __ away.

 

Clarke startled at Lexa’s ETA. The CEO of a company as big as hers  _ must _ be rich, so why would she live near Clarke’s less than savory neighborhood? Or had she happened to be in the area? Clarke swallowed thickly, hoping this wasn’t a huge mistake as she approached her building. Octavia was right, though, probably. Ignoring the obvious  _ spark _ , for lack of a better word, between her and Lexa hadn’t gotten them anywhere. If they were going to work together, it needed to stop.

 

Clarke decided to wait for Lexa out on her stoop. Even though it wasn’t really spring yet, the sun was warm and the air felt good on Clarke’s flushed cheeks. A black Tesla sedan pulled up a couple of minutes later, and Lexa immediately stepped out from the back passenger side door. She looked softer than normal, but still put together, in boots, tight black jeans, and a thick gray cable knit sweater under a peacoat. Her hair was piled on top of her head in the usual bun, but it wasn’t as tight as she wore it in the office. 

 

“Clarke,” Lexa nodded as she approached.

 

“Thanks for coming,” Clarke replied, doing her best to keep her voice even.

 

“My driver should be fine waiting there, right?” Lexa checked, businesslike, as she walked up the steps.

 

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Clarke said before turning to let them into the building, “No problem.”

 

As they ascended the stairs, a silence settled around them, thick and awkward. Clarke’s mind raced with memories of the last time Lexa had been in her stairwell, been in her apartment, and she wondered if Lexa was thinking about the same things. This was a terrible idea.

 

After letting Lexa into her apartment, Clarke shut the door and took a deep breath, hoping to steady herself before saying… something. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead, actually. This was a  _ terrible _ idea.

 

“First of all, please allow me to apologize again,” the words tumbled out of Lexa’s mouth, catching Clarke by surprise.  _ Had she practiced this? _

 

“I feel awful about what I did - I can’t stop thinking about how I took advantage of you. You have no reason to believe me, but, Clarke, I swear to you that I have never done anything like this before,” Lexa paused briefly, “But that doesn’t matter, I know that. If you want to file a formal report, I completely understand. In fact, I urge you to do so.” 

 

Clarke gaped at Lexa, completely at a loss for words.  _ File a formal report? _ What in the world was happening. Clarke took a moment to remove her sunglasses and jacket and set them on the counter as she tried to figure out what to say.

 

“Lexa,” Clarke began, shaking her head, “What?”

 

“I’m your  _ boss _ ,” Lexa responded, her face pained, “I’m in a position of power and I took advantage of that power.”

 

“That's ridiculous,” Clarke scoffed, “First of all, I don’t think of you that way.” 

 

Lexa’s expression faltered, “You don’t think of me… as your boss?”

 

“Yeah, no.”

 

“Well,” Lexa put a hand on her hip, annoyance at Clarke clearly stronger than her guilt at the moment, “I am.”

 

“ _ Fine _ , I guess technically you’re my boss,” Clarke dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, “but you and I both know that…  _ this _ started before we found out about all that. Anyway, whatever - second of all, I kissed you back.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke confirmed, hoping she didn't look as embarrassed as she felt.

 

“You did?” Lexa’s voice was softer, incredulous.

 

“Of course I did!” Clarke almost laughed at the absurdity of the conversation, “Trust me, of all the things I'm feeling right now -  _ forced _ or  _ harassed _ are not on my radar. Not at all.” 

 

“Oh,” Lexa repeated.

 

“Do you want to sit down?” Clarke asked before she could second guess herself.

 

“I-” Lexa hesitated, glancing between the couch and the door with comically wide eyes.

 

“Just sitting, only for a few minutes,” Clarke gestured toward the living room.

 

“Alright,” Lexa nodded, prim and proper as always, “Just for a few minutes.”

 

They settled onto opposite corners of the couch, leaving a generous amount of space between them. 

 

“But there  _ is _ still the work thing,” Clarke commented once they were situated.

 

Lexa quirked one eyebrow up, her wry expression irritatingly attractive, “I thought you didn't think of me as your boss.”

 

“You know what I mean.” 

 

Clarke had to look away. The air was doing that charging, swirling thing it seemed to always do when she and Lexa were together. This had been  _ such  _ a terrible idea.

 

“I do,” Lexa finally responded, her voice low.

 

“Also, I got out of a relationship pretty recently,” Clarke added without looking up, “It didn’t end well.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Clarke.”

 

_ Fuck _ , Lexa’s voice was  _ doing things _ to her. Clarke hopped up off the couch and put a couple of extra feet of distance between them. This could not happen again.

 

“So, you see, there are a lot of factors at play here,” Clarke said, starting to pace a little.

 

“There are,” Lexa agreed.

 

“But, I mean, we’re both adults right?” Clarke questioned without actually looking back at the couch, “So maybe we’re attracted to each other? So what? It happens all the time, but, you know, life goes on. The air is clear now, and we can just move past this, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Great, great,” Clarke was aware that she was babbling, but she couldn’t make the words stop, “I’m glad we did this - glad we talked, I mean - it was the mature thing to do. If we had tried to ignore it again, it probably would’ve just gotten worse and worse.”

 

“I agree.”

 

Clarke looked down at Lexa, and found she couldn’t stop staring at Lexa’s lips. 

 

“God, I  _ really _ want to fucking kiss you again.”

 

Lexa’s eyes snapped shut and the breath rushed out of her lungs as though Clarke’s words had physically slammed into her.

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

Clarke inhaled deeply and turned away from Lexa again, “Okay, so. We’ve established that we, maybe, find each other attractive -  _ slightly _ attractive - passable, really, but we agree that pursuing any kind of  _ anything _ would be a terrible idea.”

 

Clarke heard the couch cushions shift before a few slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the room.

 

“That’s the situation, yes.”

 

Lexa was standing just behind her now. Clarke’s chest and shoulders heaved with each breath; they seemed to be coming more quickly with each passing second. She hoped Lexa didn’t notice - or maybe she hoped Lexa did. Clarke didn’t really know anymore.

 

“So what do we do?” Clarke asked, internally cursing the shaky timbre of her voice.

 

“I think,” Lexa began, her breath warm on Clarke’s neck. Clarke shivered and wrapped her arms around her midsection involuntarily. 

 

“I think we just keep our distance until this passes.”

 

She could feel the heat radiating off of Lexa behind her. All Clarke would have to do was lean back, just an inch or two, and she would be able to feel the other woman pressed up against her. She could even blame a little sway on the vodka, and - no.  _ No. _ Clarke  _ had  _ to stop doing this. Instead of listening to her traitorous body, she nodded, not trusting her voice. 

 

“I  _ am  _ sorry, Clarke. You - ” Lexa paused, her voice softer than it had ever been before, “I’m very sorry.”

 

“So am I,” Clarke practically croaked out. 

 

Lexa didn’t move for several long moments, her breath tickling Clarke at the nape of her neck. It was the most exquisite form of torture she could imagine. Clarke snapped her eyes shut and willed herself not to react. Eventually, Lexa swallowed audibly and stepped away. Clarke kept her eyes closed until the click clacking of Lexa’s expensive shoes made their way out of her apartment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride, y'all! Here's the chapter where we earn that M rating - enjoy.

Clarke didn’t want to toot her own horn, but, a few weeks in, Operation Avoid Lexa was going better than she ever expected. For her part, Lexa seemed to be limiting the time spent in the office and avoiding the bar, and Clarke was thankful that they had only been in the same space a handful of times. When Lexa was around, the draw to find the other woman was still there, still strong, but Clarke had been able to tamp it down. So, toot toot.

 

Today, however, was proving to be the first real test of Clarke’s will. It all started when one of her clients, Mrs. Fischer of Gallagher Realty, dropped by the office unannounced. She was in a panic - second guessing every decision that had been made about her company’s rebranding over the past several months. Lexa happened to hear part of the conversation and insisted that she sit in on an impromptu meeting to review the work and talk through any issues Mrs. Fischer might be having.

 

So that’s how Clarke found herself there: sitting in a conference room with her nervous - but ultimately sweet - client while she tried to ignore how fucking good Lexa looked in her pencil skirt and blouse. Clarke deserved a medal for this shit.

 

“Janet, let’s take a step back,” Clarke inhaled deeply, “What happened? What’s changed since last week? The last time we talked you were over the moon about this direction.”

 

Mrs. Fischer frowned, apologetic, “Now that I've had some time to sit with it, I'm just not sure it's right.”

 

Clarke nodded, taking her time with the words, “That's understandable, this is a big move for you.”

 

“That’s right,” the older woman agreed, looking relieved, “You know this was my father’s company, honey. I just want to do right by him. This is all so modern, so  _ different. _ ”

 

“Of course,” Clarke smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Mrs. Fischer’s hand, “I get it.”

 

She pulled her hand back before sighing somewhat dramatically. She closed the proposed logo file that had been displaying on the large conference room display screen with an exaggerated mouse click. 

 

“Well, let's pack it up then, I guess,” Clarke said, “We can go back to the research and come up with a new strategy - one that leans more heavily on the image of the  _ old _ Gallagher Realty. But, if I can be totally frank with you, it’s not the right move for you or your company.”

 

Lexa cleared her throat, about to step in, but Clarke silenced her with a single look. 

 

“We tested concepts with dozens of your customers,” Clarke continued, tearing her gaze away from Lexa, “And, across the board, they absolutely loved concept one. They felt like they were looking at a more modern and technologically capable version of the Gallagher Realty they had come to trust over the years.”

 

Clarke pulled the proposed logo up again on the screen and gestured up at it.

 

“This evolution of your brand positions you to earn a huge portion of the new homebuyer market. You will have a shot with the type of customer that hasn’t even looked your way in years. It’s exciting, Janet! I’ve been doing this for a while now, and your new brand is about as much of a home run as it gets - trust me.”

 

Mrs. Fischer studied Clarke’s face for a few long beats. Clarke didn’t dare look away, or even breathe too deeply.

 

“You're right,” Janet said finally, nodding, “You are absolutely right. Please forgive me for coming in here like a chicken with my head cut off, all this change is tough on an old gal like me.”

 

“Old gal?” Clarke asked, shock coloring her voice, “Well, if that’s the case, Janet, I hope I look half as good as you when  _ I’m _ an old gal.”

 

“Oh, you stop it,” Janet laughed and waved Clarke’s compliment off, “But seriously, Clarke, thank you for talking me down from the ledge. This really is exciting; it’s looking wonderful.”

 

Janet reached out to shake Clarke’s hand and held it tightly between both of her own.

 

Clarke grinned, “Like I said before, I completely understand where you’re coming from; it’s not a problem at all. This is what I’m here for.”

 

“You’re a doll,” Janet finally let go of Clarke’s hand and directed her attention toward Lexa, “She’s a doll, isn’t she?”

 

“She is,” Lexa agreed, her lips curling up as though she had no control over them, “Can I walk you out, Mrs. Fischer?”

 

Janet shook her head seriously, “Only if you’ll call me Janet.”

 

“She’s a lost cause, Janet. Believe me, I’ve tried,” Clarke laughed, “She can’t  _ not _ be polite - I think it goes against her programming.”

 

Janet tsked at Lexa, but walked out with her anyway, smiling widely. Clarke took her time shutting down her computer and then set to cleaning up the papers strewn about the conference room table. Lexa came back in a few minutes later.

 

“That was a very nice job,” Lexa commented, stacking a few printouts that Clarke hadn’t reached yet.

 

“Thanks, but - for the record - I take offense at the tone of surprise,” Clarke replied, smirking.

 

“I’m being serious, that was a potentially volatile situation and you did a remarkable job of shaping the tone of the conversation toward a productive outcome.”

 

“It's part of my job,” Clarke shrugged, reaching for the papers Lexa held, “I usually don't have an audience, though.”

 

Clarke did her best not to react when their hands brushed. And then, when she was unsuccessful, she looked everywhere but in Lexa’s direction while she tried desperately to slow and even out her hammering pulse.

 

“You can perhaps imagine, based on our previous,” Lexa paused, “ _ encounters _ , why I am a bit shocked by your composure.”

 

“Yeah, well, I guess you just drive me a little crazy,” Clarke made eye contact before saying the words, knowing full well how reckless they were.

 

Lexa blushed, light pink dusting her features almost immediately. It was unfair how damn  _ pretty  _ Lexa’s blush was, especially considering the shade Clarke usually turned when she flushed was something closer to a ripe tomato. Lexa looked away. They were acting more like teenagers at the mall than two successful women conducting business, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to care. It had been over two weeks since she last talked to Lexa, two weeks without this  _ thing  _ that made her insides do gymnastics, and Clarke was starving for the contact.

 

“You were very diplomatic, that's all I'm saying,” Lexa continued once more, trying to steer the conversation back to work-safe topics as she packed up her things.

 

“I had to be,” Clarke shrugged.

 

“But it's not in your nature,” Lexa shot back, something between a leading question and a statement.

 

Clarke paused to consider the words, “No, I guess it's not really.”

 

Lexa nodded, picking up her bag and making her way toward the door, “I have to say - I didn't enjoy it half as much as I enjoy  _ our _ conversions, but it was very nice work. Go get a drink, you've earned it.”

 

Lexa was out of the room before Clarke could respond.

 

*****

 

Hours later, after Clarke had successfully convinced Octavia to join her for a celebratory round of cocktails, Lexa came striding into Wonderland and perched herself at the bar. It was the first time she had done so in over a week, but Clarke still noticed her from the moment the door swung open.

 

Clarke waited what she figured was an appropriate amount of time after Lexa’s entrance before casually asking, “Hey, you want another? I’ll get the next round.” 

 

Octavia shot her a knowing look, “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

 

“What?” Clarke scoffed.

 

“You’re really not subtle,” Octavia said, her tone clipped, “But, whatever, go. Get me something expensive.”

 

Clarke at least had the decency to look somewhat guilty as she backed away from their table and made her way to the bar. It just so happened that one of the few empty barstools was right next to Lexa.

 

“You’re right, you know?” Clarke said as she sat down, “It's definitely not my favorite part of the job.”

 

“Hmm?” Lexa asked, not looking up from the glass of whiskey she was swirling between her hands. 

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. Lexa knew exactly what she was talking about.

 

“Client stuff like that, you were right - it’s not ‘ _ in my nature.’  _ I hate it.”

 

“Why?” Lexa finally looked up.

 

“Because.”

 

“Clarke.”

 

“It just makes me feel gross,” Clarke shrugged.

 

“Why should effectively communicating with a difficult client feel  _ gross _ ? It’s an accomplishment - a skill.”

 

“Everything I was saying about the new brand was true, you know? Their customers did love it, it's modern, it positions them perfectly in the marketplace - it’s damn near perfect,” Clarke paused to take a sip of beer,  “But I hate that I have to make it feel cheap and salesy. I never wanted to be Don Draper; I just wanted to make things.”

 

“You do both. You do them very well. I'm impressed,“ Lexa spoke softly, leaning in closer to, ostensibly, make sure Clarke could hear her.

 

Clarke leaned in too, grinning wickedly, “I told you I was impressive, didn’t I?”

 

Lexa was staring at her mouth  _ so _ blatantly, and the realization of it tugged low at Clarke’s belly. She inched closer, her fingers digging into the bar so they wouldn’t do other things - things Clarke  _ really _ wanted them to do. Lexa blinked suddenly, seeming to come back to herself.

 

“I'm sorry, Clarke,” Lexa shook her head, leaning back, “Ms. Griffin, again - great job today, but excuse me, I have to head back to the office.”

 

“The office,” Clarke repeated, “What? It's so late.”

 

“My job is never done,” Lexa smiled wryly, and it almost wasn’t completely awkward.

 

Lexa swiftly pulled a few bills from her wallet and left them on the bar before attempting an apologetic smile. Clarke stared pointedly at the nearly full whiskey Lexa was abandoning on the bar, but said nothing as Lexa briskly walked out. Clarke sighed and trudged back to her table.

 

“What the hell was that?” Octavia asked as soon as she sat back down.

 

“What?” Clarke hoped the bar was dark enough to hide how affected she was.

 

Octavia’s voice was stern, “Clarke, it looked like you two were about to kiss.”

 

“What? No,” Clarke wouldn’t meet Octavia’s eyes, “We were just talking.”

 

“You didn’t even get our drinks.”

 

“Fuck,” Clarke grimaced, “I’m sorry. I can go back.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Octavia said, “What were you talking about anyway?”

 

“We were talking about work.”

 

“Work,” Octavia said incredulously.

 

“Yes, Octavia,” Clarke explained, clearly flustered, “We were talking about the meeting with Mrs. Fischer this afternoon.”

 

Octavia shook her head, smiling humorlessly, “Sure, okay.”

 

“In fact,” Clarke dug her wallet out of her coat pocket and pulled some money out, “she reminded me of something. I’m actually gonna head out and check.”

 

“You’re going to go do work at almost midnight on a Friday night,” Octavia deadpanned.

 

“Yeah, I mean,” Clarke still wouldn’t look directly at Octavia, “Not, like, a  _ lot _ of work.”

 

“I just want to be on the record as telling you that this is probably the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Octavia stated flatly after a moment.

 

“What? I-”

 

“I’m serious, Clarke. This is  _ really _ dumb.”

 

Clarke finally looked at Octavia. She deflated and nodded, “Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Octavia shrugged.

 

“Okay,” Clarke repeated, not quite sure the other woman was going to drop it.

 

“Call me tomorrow,” Octavia slid the money from the table top and stuffed it in her pocket.

 

Clarke nodded, “I will.”

 

Clarke left quickly, before she could think too hard about her decision. Her walk back to the office was hazy, her whole body humming as the rest of the world passed by in a blur of light and sound. 

 

An empty office greeted her when she finally made it up to the sixth floor, the darkness and silence a stark contrast to the world outside. For a few long dreadful seconds, Clarke thought she had misread the entire situation. A cold, sharp pang of disappointment and embarrassment raced up her spine before she noticed a faint strip of light spilling out under a barely ajar door. Someone was in the war room.

 

Clarke crossed the distance with long strides, pushed the door open, and took in the sight in front of her. Lexa, bathed in the soft half-light of a small lamp, sat on the couch with her head in her hands. Her jacket was strewn haphazardly over the armrest, and her skirt and blouse lacked their usual crispness. She looked defeated. Clarke said nothing, just stepped inside and closed the door behind her. 

 

At the click of the door, Lexa’s head snapped up, her eyes wide.

 

“Clarke,” Lexa said, “What are you doing here?”

 

Clarke fought not to roll her eyes, “You wouldn’t have told me where you were going if you didn’t want me to follow you.” 

 

“I-” Lexa licked her lips and then abruptly looked away, standing, “I should just go home. I’m sorry.”

 

Clarke stood still, effectively blocking Lexa’s path to the door, but the other woman made no attempt to approach her anyway.

 

“Is that what you want to do?” Clarke asked carefully.

 

Lexa’s eyes fluttered closed and Clarke could tell she was breathing heavily even from eight feet away. Lexa shook her head no.

 

“So what do you want?” Clarke knew, of course - or at least  _ hoped _ that she knew - but she had to hear Lexa say it.

 

“Clarke,” Lexa’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes still squeezed shut, “we  _ can’t. _ ” 

 

Clarke had never considered herself to have some kind of forbidden kink, but  _ fuck.  _ That single word from Lexa did things to her body that some previous lovers hadn’t been able to accomplish with hours of work. She swallowed thickly.

 

“Forget about everything else,” Clarke tried again, her voice rough and low, “Just tell me what you want.”

 

“ _ You, _ Clarke. I’ve wanted you since the fucking night I met you, okay?” Lexa all but growled in response, as though Clarke might use it against her. 

 

Something inside Clarke broke with the words; the last few shreds of composure she had been clinging to over the past weeks disappeared. She surged forward and grabbed onto Lexa, one hand firm at her hip and the other cupping Lexa’s jaw. 

 

“Good,” was all Clarke offered before she crashed their mouths together.

 

It wasn’t like their first kiss, with its gentle insistence and soft pressure - no, this was a wild, untamed thing. Lips and tongues and teeth, moving and clashing and biting. Clarke tugged Lexa close, their bodies finally pressed tight. The reality of it was better even than Clarke had imagined.

 

Lexa gasped into Clarke’s lips when her back bumped roughly against the wall. Clarke hadn’t realized she was guiding them toward it, but she would do it a hundred more times if it meant she could hear that sound come out of Lexa’s mouth again. Printouts and sketches, hours worth of Clarke’s work, ripped and littered the floor around them as they moved against one another. Lexa worked her hands inside Clarke’s jacket, a little impatient sound bubbling up from her throat when Clarke wouldn’t help with its removal. 

 

“Off,” Lexa breathed between kisses, her eyebrows knit in frustration.

 

Clarke moved down to kiss Lexa’s neck and hide her wide smile, complying with the other woman’s request. She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket, all the while kissing and nipping at an absolutely perfect spot right beneath Lexa’s jaw. Clarke managed to push the coat off, no thanks to Lexa’s “helpful” roaming hands, and let it pool on the floor behind her. Now free of the extra layer, Clarke reached out for Lexa’s hips once more. She worked her fingertips underneath the silk of Lexa’s blouse, untucking it haphazardly as she grasped at the smooth skin hidden beneath.

 

“Can I?” Clarke asked against Lexa’s neck as she began to push the material up Lexa’s torso.

 

She felt Lexa nod and continued to lift the blouse, taking time to drag her hands along Lexa’s sides as she did. Lexa raised her arms, and Clarke finally took her mouth off the other woman. She pulled the shirt all the way off Lexa, threw it on the floor, and leaned back to look at her.

 

“Jesus,” Clarke panted, her eyes sweeping over every inch of Lexa, “How are you even real?”

 

Lexa didn’t respond, merely bit her lip and reached out to pull Clarke closer. Clarke, eager to keep touching, keep kissing, went willingly. She cupped Lexa’s jaw and kissed her deeply as Lexa fumbled with the buttons running down the front of Clarke’s shirt. Clarke smiled into their kiss, extremely charmed by the thought of Lexa not being perfect at something for once, and dipped one of her hands lower. She slid down the front of Lexa’s chest and gently teased her nipple through her bra. 

 

Lexa made a noise halfway between a gasp and a moan, her hands tightening and pulling at Clarke’s collar, and  _ holy fuck _ this was everything. Clarke shifted her stance and slipped one of her legs between Lexa’s, desperate for friction. Clarke kissed her way down Lexa’s neck as she continued playing with Lexa’s breasts. She alternated between featherlight brushes and deeper squeezes, trying to catalog Lexa’s reactions to everything. 

 

They were practically dry humping and Clarke thought maybe she should be embarrassed at how fast things were escalating, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when she had Lexa pinned against a wall, writhing and making noises like  _ that.  _ Lexa had given up on Clarke’s buttons and was now just groping her through the shirt and bra. Her fingertips found a sensitive nipple and pinched, just rough enough to send a jolt through Clarke. She let out a raspy cry which only seemed to urge Lexa on.

 

Clark moved her focus lower, bunching her hands in Lexa’s skirt as best she could. It fit snuggly, but with some effort she was able to ruck it up higher on Lexa’s hips.

 

“Is this okay? I need to touch you,” Clarke managed between breaths.

 

“Yes,” Lexa nodded enthusiastically.

 

Lexa helped Clarke push her skirt up higher still and then reached inside to tug off her underwear. Lexa let them slide down her long legs before stepping out and discarding them with a little kick. Clarke ran a hand up and down one of Lexa’s thighs while she shamelessly ground her hips on the other one. With each pass, her fingertips got higher and higher.

 

“Clarke,” Lexa finally snapped, her voice desperate.

 

Part of her wanted to hold back, to really make Lexa beg Clarke to touch her, but there was something fragile in Lexa just below the surface. There was no way in hell Clarke was going to risk disrupting this moment for a little teasing. Without further preamble, Clarke ran her fingers along Lexa’s cunt. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ , Lexa,” Clarke breathed out in a strangled voice, “You’re so fucking wet.”

 

“You-” Lexa gasped, as Clarke continued to touch, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about this.”

 

“What did you think about?” Clarke whispered close to Lexa’s ear as she found Lexa’s clit and circled it softly.

 

Lexa cried out and dug her fingertips into Clarke’s back. Clarke didn’t think she had ever been more turned on in her whole life, and she thrust her hips harder at Lexa.

 

“Clarke,” Lexa whined.

 

Clarke licked up Lexa’s neck before trying again, “Tell me what you thought about.”

 

“Fuck,” Lexa rasped as Clarke dipped her fingertips inside for just a moment before pulling them out, “I thought about kissing you, touching you.”

 

Clarke grinned and kissed Lexa hard. She kept her touches light and teasing for a few moments more.

 

“Did you think about this?” Clarke asked, stroking Lexa with a little more purpose, “Did you think about me fucking you?”

 

Lexa nodded and tugged sharply at Clarke’s shirt to pull her closer.

 

“I thought about it too,” Clarke admitted, “A lot.”

 

“Clarke,” Lexa gasped as Clarke passed over her clit again, “ _ Please. _ ”

 

At that, Clarke gave in; she sunk two fingers, slow and deep, into Lexa, enraptured by the way the other woman’s mouth fell open. And, fuck, Lexa felt incredible - hot and wet and soft, her muscles tensing and fluttering with every stroke. Clarke fucked her leisurely at first, taking the time to commit every feeling, every sight, to her memory. Lexa cried out as Clarke curled her fingers on a particularly deep thrust, and Clarke could feel her own orgasm creeping up on her.

 

Clarke picked up her pace, spurred on by the way Lexa was clinging to her, sweaty and breathless. Though the angle wasn’t great, Clarke managed to slip her thumb over Lexa’s clit and pressed firmly. Lexa’s answering whimper rang loud in Clarke’s ear. Clarke swiped over Lexa’s clit with every plunge of her fingers, thrilled to hear Lexa’s gasps and pants getting louder and less restrained by the second. 

 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Clarke rasped into Lexa’s ear.

 

Clarke’s entire body was a coiled spring, ready to explode at any moment. It was only a combination of stubbornness and pride that had staved off her orgasm so far, but her body was aching for a release. She knew wouldn’t last much longer though, especially when Lexa started practically bouncing on her fingers and moaning in rhythm with each of Clarke’s thrusts. Clarke focused on Lexa’s clit, pressing harder and moving faster, and Lexa’s yells got louder still. 

 

Lexa seemed  _ so _ close, and Clarke was too, so she didn’t let up. She fucked Lexa hard and deep, jerking her hips against the other woman’s. Lexa’s orgasm came just a few seconds later; she cried out sharply as she tightened and pulsed around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa squeezed her close, her fingertips digging in roughly, and Clarke followed her off the cliff’s edge. 

 

Clarke moaned, or maybe cursed, as stars and galaxies burst inside her suddenly rigid body. She slumped forward against Lexa, leaning heavily on her and the wall for support, as her lungs worked to gulp down air. Their skin was sweaty and slick where it touched, and Clarke’s clothes stuck to her uncomfortably. Neither of them moved or spoke for a long stretch of time.   
  
Lexa panted against her neck, “Did you just-”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke interrupted, her eyes screwed shut in embarrassment.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke repeated.

 

Lexa swallowed again, “I didn’t really tou-”

 

“I know.”

 

Lexa nodded into her neck, and Clarke was grateful she didn’t say anything else.  _ Fuck. _ Had she really come just from fucking Lexa and grinding against her leg? Clarke shifted slightly to relieve some of the ache in her wrist from their awkward angle. Lexa hissed in response, pulsing around Clarke’s fingers as she grabbed at Clarke’s shirt and balled it up in her fists. 

 

“Sorry, hang on - I’ll move in a second,” Clarke said, still trying to catch her breath, “I’m scared that if I stop leaning against the wall I’ll fall down.”

 

Lexa actually, honest to god,  _ laughed _ at that. Clarke almost felt more proud of getting the woman to laugh than she did about making her come, hard and fast, against the wall of their office.

 

“It’s not funny,” Clarke argued, but she was laughing too - breathless and raspy and feeling like her heart might beat right out of her chest.

 

“Of course not,” Lexa replied. 

 

Lexa tried to school her expression into a serious one, but the corners of her lips wouldn’t stay down. They were quiet for a few moments, their heavy breathing the only sound in the small room.

 

“This is-” Lexa said finally, her fingertips tracing tiny circles on Clarke’s back, “This is a one-time thing, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke swallowed, “Yeah, for sure. We just had to get it out of our systems.”

 

“Right. Good,” Lexa nodded before adding in a quiet voice, “But, do you have to leave right away?”

 

The question knocked the wind out of Clarke.

 

“I understand if you have to go,” Lexa added before Clarke could respond, “It’s just, if this is my only chance… I really want to be able to touch you, too.”

 

Lexa licked her lips and stared at Clarke through half-lidded eyes. Clarke’s mouth fell open as her poor overworked heart started to speed up once more. She grinned.

 

“I think I can stay a little longer.”


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke groaned as she swatted blindly at her nightstand. The buzzing wouldn’t stop, and she really just wanted it to stop. Her hand connected with the source, her phone, and she looked at it blearily. Three missed calls from Octavia. She grunted at the device and opened up their text conversation. Before she could type out “fuck off, im sleeping,” a new text came in.

 

_ Wake up, I’m on my  _ __   
_ way with coffee and  _ _   
_ __ breakfast

 

Clarke sighed and glanced at the time - 9:41am. She couldn’t really justify blowing off Octavia this late in the morning, even though she hadn’t gotten home until after 3am.

 

_ Buzz when you get  _ _   
_ _ here - doors open _

 

Clarke crawled out of bed, used the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and unlocked her front door in a stupor, unwilling to fully open her eyes. She had just jumped back under the covers, immediately tugging them up to her neck, when her phone vibrated again. She answered quickly and pressed 1 to unlock her building’s front door for Octavia. Her door flung open shortly after.

 

“Morning sunshine!” Octavia called as she locked up behind her.

 

Clarke groaned in response, nestling further down into her bed to wait for the inevitable interrogation. 

 

“Holy shit,” Octavia exclaimed from the living room, “This painting is gorgeous! I love the way the colors swirl, it's like they're moving.”

 

“Thanks, O,” Clarke called back. 

 

Clarke very intentionally decided not to explain how the work had been inspired by Lexa and, specifically, the way she made Clarke feel. Octavia did not need to know about that.

 

“I'm gonna bring Lincoln by to see it next time he visits - he's gonna love it,” Octavia said as she walked into the bedroom, lifting a tray laden with coffees and a couple of small paper bags. 

 

“So, you want food now or just coffee?” 

 

“Caffeine first,” Clarke said, her voice rough, “Please.”

 

Octavia handed Clarke a large cup before taking her own and setting the tray down on the floor. She sat cross-legged at the foot of Clarke’s bed and looked at her expectantly.

 

“Thanks for the coffee,” Clarke said after a long sip, “Fuck, that’s good. You stopped at Room 11?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Octavia continued staring.

 

“What?” Clarke asked.

 

“Are we really going to play this game?” Octavia sighed, “Come on, you know I’m here to get the details about last night. What happened?”

 

“Oh, uh, nothing really,” Clarke picked at a loose thread on her comforter.

 

“Cool, cool,” Octavia nodded, “So you just gave yourself a hickey?”

 

Clarke flushed and tugged the covers up higher. 

 

“Okay, fine,” she relented, “I went back to the office and saw Lexa.”

 

“Obviously,” Octavia rolled her eyes.

 

“But we talked and we decided that it was totally a one time thing,” Clarke tried not to smile as she thought about how many times it had actually been.

 

“A one time heated makeout session or…” Octavia trailed off.

 

“Yeah, exactly,” Clarke avoided Octavia’s eyes and took another sip of coffee, “Just a one time makeout session.”

 

“Fucking bullshit, you’re a terrible liar,” Octavia scooted closer to Clarke, “Did you have sex with her? Oh my god, you had sex with her  _ at the office _ , didn’t you?”

 

Clarke couldn’t fight the grin that overtook her lips as she thought about sex with Lexa. Lexa’s hands, Lexa’s mouth,  _ Lexa. _ She swallowed down some coffee, her mouth suddenly dry.

 

“Octavia, come on,” she sighed.

 

“No way, you have to tell me everything - how was it?”

 

Clarke wished Octavia had brought her an iced coffee to press against her heated face. 

 

“I am absolutely not going to tell you everything.”

 

“Well you have to tell me  _ something _ ,” Octavia practically whined. 

 

Clarke paused for a moment, deciding how much to share, “I had some of the best orgasms of my life. There, happy?”

 

“Plural?” Octavia’s eyes lit up.

 

Clarke grinned and nodded before taking a drink.

 

“Holy shit, yes,” Octavia said, “I mean I’m not shocked considering the way you two look at each other.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Octavia gave her a look over the top of her coffee cup, but did not elaborate on her statement.

 

“Also, wait a second - why are you being so cool about this?” Clarke asked.

 

“Well, I still think you’re being an idiot, but it’s your life and I’m your friend. I made myself pretty clear about this situation and my opinion on it fucking up work, so you know how I feel. I won’t be able to change your mind or stop you so,” Octavia shrugged, “At least I can get some juicy details.”

 

“That’s… surprisingly mature,” Clarke replied.

 

Octavia laughed, “Yeah, I know. I talked to Lincoln about it for a while.”

 

“Literal saint, that man,” Clarke chuckled.

 

“Duh, but enough about him, I need more info,” Octavia said, “So you guys did it, multiple times, and then what? You, like, shook hands goodbye?”

 

Clarke thought back to the night before.

 

*****

 

_ “As much as I don’t want to stop making you come, I should really get home,” Clarke sighed as she ran her fingertips down Lexa’s chest, “It's ridiculously late - or, early, actually.” _

 

_ Lexa nodded as she took a deep breath, “That's very true.” _

 

_ They had ended up on the floor, only after a one-orgasm-each pit stop on the couch. Clarke was fairly sure she was going to walk away with some painful rugburns from the rough, office-quality carpeting, but it had been worth it. She nodded back at Lexa, taking another long moment to gaze at the woman above her. Clarke never wanted to forget the way she looked: hair messy, flawless skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, out of breath. Pretty much fucking perfect, Clarke figured.  _

 

_ “What happens now?” Clarke asked as she gently traced Lexa’s collarbone. _

 

_ Lexa tilted her head inquisitively and frowned, “What happens? We go home tonight, we go to work on Monday, we interact when the situation calls for it - nothing changes.” _

 

_ “Right,” she nodded, “Nothing changes.” _

 

_ Clarke rolled away and sat up, scanning the room for her clothes as Lexa did the same.  _

 

_ “So, this didn't suck,” Clarke offered awkwardly as she pulled on her underwear.  _

 

_ Lexa laughed again, and it had happened a few times now, but it filled Clarke with a little thrill each time.  _

 

_ “It did not,” Lexa agreed before adding, “Well, actually, I don't know - there was definitely some sucking.” _

 

_ Clarke’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at Lexa, who was staring back at her lasciviously. _

 

_ “Alexandria Heda making sex jokes,” Clarke shook her head, “I never thought I’d see the day.” _

 

_ Lexa merely smiled back, looking pleased with herself, before setting off to find her shirt. Clarke did the same, collecting various articles of clothing from around the room. She found her phone in the pocket of her jeans as she tugged them on and quickly checked the weather. _

 

_ “Oh nice,” Clarke commented absently as she swiped through the hourly forecast, “It’s not that cold out.” _

 

_ “You’re not planning to walk home, are you?” Lexa asked hesitantly before pulling on her shirt. _

 

_ “Yeah, I’m only a few blocks away,” Clarke replied as she buttoned up her own shirt. A couple of buttons at the top were missing, but she had no idea when she lost them. _

 

_ Lexa pursed her lips, “Are you sure that’s for the best?” _

 

_ “It’s fine, don’t worry.” _

 

_ Clarke sat on the couch to lace up her boots, and she was joined by Lexa just a few moments later. _

 

_ “How about I drop you off? You’re right on my way home,” Lexa offered. _

 

_ “And how are  _ **_you_ ** _ getting home Ms. Heda? Is your driver waiting around for your call at 3am?” Clarke asked. _

 

_ “Oh,” Lexa looked at her watch, “That’s a good point.” _

 

_ Clarke laughed as she finished tying her boots. Goddamnit, Lexa was cute. _

 

_ “Here, I’ll just get us a car. A Lyft,” Lexa said as she picked her phone up off the table, “I’ll put in multiple stops.” _

 

_ “I guess you’re not going to take no for an answer, huh?” Clarke asked, but Lexa ignored her, “Fine, just send it to me and we can split it.” _

 

_ “That won’t be necessary. As you said, you’re only a few blocks away,” Lexa tapped her screen, “Four minutes - are you ready?” _

 

_ “Sure,” Clarke nodded and stood, grabbing her coat. _

 

_ Lexa did the same and they headed down to the street in comfortable silence. A silver sedan was already waiting for them by the time Clarke pushed open the heavy front door to the building. They approached the car. _

 

_ “Lexa?” The man asked through his open window. _

 

_ “Yes,” she replied, opening the car door, “thank you.” _

 

_ They settled into the backseat as the driver pulled away from the curb. _

 

_ “How are you ladies doing tonight? Getting up to anything fun?”  _

 

_ Clarke replied, “We just left the office, actually.” _

 

_ “Working this late on a Friday night! Y’all are some good employees,” the driver laughed, “Your boss must be a real pain in the ass, though.” _

 

_ “Actually, she’s not so bad,” Clarke looked at Lexa, smirking, “Pretty cute, too.” _

 

_ The driver laughed, “Oh alright, I see, I see. Putting in that overtime.” _

 

_ “That’s right,” Clarke laughed, not taking her eyes off of Lexa. Lexa rolled her eyes, but smiled back. _

 

_ “Well, I hope you made some good progress tonight. You gotta impress her, burning that late night oil,” the driver said. _

 

_ Clarke licked her lips, eyeing Lexa up and down, “Yeah, it was really fun work. We actually finished  _ **_several_ ** _ projects.” _

 

*****

 

Clarke shook her head, doing her best to clear the memories. The rest of the short ride had gone much of the same way, dripping with innuendo that mostly just confused their very amiable driver.

 

“No, we did not ‘shake hands’,” Clarke glared at her friend, “Like I said before, we just - we talked about how last night was a one time thing. And we agreed that it wouldn’t impact our working relationship.”

 

Octavia laughed, “ _ Working relationship. _ Yeah, okay, or foreplay - whatever you wanna call it.”

 

“Shut up. Anyway, we agreed, and split a Lyft, and then I passed out pretty immediately. And now here you are.”

 

Octavia nodded, “Well, you suck at spilling details, but I’m happy for you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, I honestly am. You look,” Octavia hesitated, “kind of different this morning - happy, good, I don’t know - but it’s nice to see you like this again.”

 

“Thanks, O,” Clarke smiled.

 

“I do wish it hadn’t taken fucking our boss to make you happy, though,” Octavia added.

 

Clarke laughed loudly, “Yeah, I know. It’s inconvenient.”

 

“Sure is,” Octavia agreed.

 

“You know what though?” Clarke asked after a moment, “Maybe it’s for the best. Lexa is hot as hell and the sex was mind blowing, but I’m obviously not ready for a real relationship - and neither is she. Our…  _ situation _ can never be that anyway, so it was kind of a perfect night.”

 

“Yeah,” Octavia said, nodding without looking convinced, “Maybe.”

 

“Anyway,” Clarke began, eager to change the subject, “Tell me about your night. Anything interesting?”

 

Octavia looked away for a moment before responding, “Actually, yeah. Bell called; he wants to make amends.”

 

“Shit,” Clarke exhaled.

As far as she knew, the Blake siblings hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. Bellamy and Octavia had been fighting non-stop about Octavia’s life, especially her relationship with Lincoln. Even though Octavia was a grown woman, her brother refused to believe she was capable of making her own decisions. Things finally came to a head when Bellamy punched Lincoln in the face, and Octavia declared she never wanted to speak to her brother again. 

 

“What did you say?” Clarke asked gently.

 

“I asked him what changed, why was he calling me now.”

 

“And?”

 

“And he rambled on about of bunch of shit. He said he’s in a serious relationship, and he started therapy - if you can believe that. And that he misses me,” Octavia swallowed, “He said he wants to be part of my life again.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Yeah,” Octavia agreed.

 

“What do you think about all of that?” 

 

“I,” Octavia began, stopping to take a deep breath, “I have no fucking idea.”

 

Clarke nodded sympathetically, waiting to see what, if anything, Octavia would add. She liked to talk about her brother just about as much as Clarke enjoyed discussing her relationship with her mom.

 

“All I know, for sure, right this moment, is that I want to eat the scones I brought,” Octavia said, “You hungry?”

 

“Obviously,” Clarke smiled and crawled out of bed, “I need to recharge after all that hot, nasty sex I had with our boss last night.”

 

Octavia barked out a laugh, “Yes, gimme more details! Let’s go.”

 

*****

 

Half a week passed before she saw Lexa again. On Wednesday, the CEO came by the office to sit in on a client presentation (though not one of Clarke’s) and stayed afterwards, checking in with various teams. They didn’t speak, but, as usual, their eyes found each other across open spaces time and again. It was, impossibly, even harder now  _ not  _ to look. Now that she had seen Lexa bare and sated. Now that she knew about the sounds the other woman made when she came. 

 

While she filled her water glass in the kitchen, Clarke let her gaze travel down the column of Lexa’s neck down to where the skin disappeared beneath a crisp button down. She wanted desperately to mess it up. Clarke looked further down to Lexa’s hands. Hands that were now elegantly preparing a cup of tea, but, the other night, had been -

 

Clarke felt a sudden tug on her arm, sharp enough to almost slosh some water out of her glass.

 

“Hey,” Clarke protested as her assailant, Octavia, dragged her around the corner, “What the fuck?” 

 

“What the fuck?” Octavia asked, crossing her arms, “You tell  _ me _ what the fuck, Clarke. You and Heda were looking at each other like you were about to bang on the kitchen counter.”

 

“What? No way, you’re being dramatic,” Clarke scoffed.

 

“ _ Monty _ even asked me what your deal was earlier, so it’s not just me.”

 

Clarke paused, “Seriously?”

 

Octavia nodded, “Yeah, so can you please lock it up?”

 

“Fuck, I didn’t realize,” Clarke trailed off and ran a hand through her hair.

 

Octavia rolled her eyes, “Well now you know, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” Clarke said, “Sorry for being kind of a bitch.”

 

“I’m used to it,” Octavia retorted, sticking out her tongue.

 

“Whatever,” Clarke said as she followed Octavia back toward the main office. She barely made it halfway across the kitchen before Lexa approached.

 

“Clarke, could I have a quick word?” 

 

Octavia glanced back over her shoulder with wide eyes, but kept walking when Clarke stopped. Lexa, frowning, led Clarke to a semi-secluded spot off to the side of the kitchen. She stood against the wall and quickly scanned the office over Clarke’s shoulder

 

“What’s up?” Clarke asked casually.

 

“What was that about?” Lexa asked, her voice hushed.

 

“Huh?” Clarke tried to play dumb, “What do you mean?”

 

“Clarke,” Lexa sighed, “Does she know?”

 

Clarke pursed her lips, considering the question before answering, “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Lexa’s eyes widened, “I am  _ very _ worried about it. Does she know?”

 

Clarke hesitated, taking some time to appreciate Lexa’s jaw muscles work and clench. Lexa was obviously angry, but, damn, she was still hot as hell. Before Clarke even had a chance to respond, Lexa’s whole demeanor changed. She looked right past Clarke and arranged her face into a tight smile.

 

“Great work again on the Gallagher account, I just received a glowing email from Janet,” Lexa said loudly, “I do have to get going, but I wanted to pass along her praise.”

 

“Oh, I,” Clarke fumbled, “Great, thank you. That’s very nice.”

 

Lexa nodded, “Have a good evening.”

 

And with that, Lexa turned and walked away. Clarke blinked at the empty space in front of her for a moment before turning to find Jaha standing at the coffee machine.

 

“Clarke,” he smiled, “Sounds like things with Ms. Heda are going well?”

 

Clarke tried to smile back, “Everything is great. Really, really great.”

 

“Glad to hear it! I knew this would all work out,” Jaha said, a smug grin on his face.

 

“Yup,” Clarke said as she started to walk away, “Well, I’ve got to go finish something up before the end of the day, so I’ll see you later.”

 

“Keep up the good work!” Jaha called after her and Clarke really hoped the floor would maybe just do her a solid for once by opening up and swallowing her.

 

She had just sat back down at her desk and was trying to settle her nerves when she felt her phone buzz within her pocket. One new text message from a phone number she immediately recognized as Lexa’s, even though she had not saved it to her phone.

 

_ Are you available this  _ __   
_ evening to discuss  _ _   
_ __ the Blake situation?

 

Clarke almost laughed at Lexa’s ever-formal tone.

 

_ That’s fine, I don’t have  _ _   
_ _ any plans tonight _

 

_ Would you be amenable  _ __   
_ to meeting at my  _ __   
_ apartment? I live a little  _ __   
_ further from the office,  _ __   
_ so there is hopefully less  _ __   
_ of a chance that we’ll  _ _   
_ __ be seen.

 

Clarke actually did laugh out loud at that one.

 

_ Sure, send me your   
_ _ address and a time _

 

_ I have a dinner meeting,  _ __   
_ but I'll be home by nine.  _ __   
_ 2112 8th Street NW,  _ _   
_ __ #1027

 

Clarke squinted at her phone; that address was not what she expecting at all. She figured someone like Lexa would live outside the city - maybe somewhere like Old Town - not a twenty minute walk south of Clarke’s own neighborhood. Clarke had to admit she was fascinated to check it out.

 

*****

 

Clarke ended up grabbing an impromptu dinner out with a few co-workers, knowing that she would end up pacing holes in her floor if she went home alone. After parting ways with her friends, Clarke did her best to stretch out the relatively short walk to the address Lexa had provided. She walked the length of Meridian Hill Park, even though it was completely out of the way.

 

At a quarter past nine, Clarke stepped up to Lexa’s building. It was one of the new, industrial-style apartment buildings that had started going up around the U St corridor. Clarke knew they were very nice and  _ very  _ expensive, but she was still surprised to learn how close the other woman lived to her. Clarke buzzed Lexa’s apartment number.

 

“Hello?” Lexa’s voice filtered through the speaker, tinny and garbled.

 

“Hey, it’s Clarke.”

 

“I’ll buzz you in. I’m on the tenth floor, it’s marked PH. The elevator is past the front desk and to the right.”

 

“Thanks,” Clarke replied as the door clicked open. 

 

Clarke walked in, taking a moment to appreciate the building’s sophisticated and modern design. She rode the elevator up to the top floor (penthouse apartment, naturally) and found Lexa’s door easily. She took a deep breath to steady herself before knocking on the door. Lexa answered a moment later.

 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet,” Lexa said seriously, “Come in.”

 

Clarke nodded and stepped inside, doing her best to maintain a few feet of space between the two of them. Lexa’s hair was, for once, down and straight and  _ so  _ soft-looking. Her work clothes still looked neat and pressed, just as they had earlier in the office, and Clarke’s hands still urged to mess it all up.

 

“May I take your coat?” Lexa asked, stepping toward her.

 

“Sure,” Clarke said, her voice coming out lower than she meant it to. 

 

Clarke slipped her jacket off, unable to take her eyes off of Lexa the entire time. She held the garment out to Lexa - she was sure that’s all she  _ meant _ to do - but when Lexa reached for it, Clarke tugged the other woman close and kissed her. For a few wonderful seconds, Lexa kissed her back, the jacket forgotten on the floor. But then Lexa pulled away, her breath ragged.

 

“Clarke,” she closed her eyes, “that’s not why I invited you here.”

 

“I know,” Clarke sighed.

 

“This cannot happen again,” Lexa picked up Clarke’s coat and turned to go deeper into the apartment, through a large, open kitchen.

 

Clarke followed, “I know.”

 

And, logically, she  _ did _ know. It was dumb and reckless and unhealthy, and yet.

 

“Why, exactly, can’t it?” Clarke asked.

 

“ _ Clarke _ ,” Lexa said again, clearly frustrated, as she draped Clarke’s coat over a chair.

 

“Just hear me out,” Clarke said, “Why can’t we hook up from time to time? We’re two consenting adults and, I don’t know about you, but that was some of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

 

Lexa didn’t say anything; instead, she simply blushed and looked away. Wait. Had Clarke misinterpreted the situation? 

 

“Unless,” Clarke added awkwardly, “I mean, if you disagree - if you weren’t as into it…”

 

Recognition dawned on Lexa’s face.

 

“Oh! No! I mean yes,” Lexa shook her head, “I also - It was also, for me as well.”

 

Relief flooded through Clarke. She grinned and stepped closer to Lexa.

 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

 

“Clarke,” Lexa repeated once more, as her cheeks grew impossibly more pink.

 

“Okay, okay. The point is - why couldn’t we do this?” Clarke reached for Lexa’s hand, “Just from time to time, nothing serious.”

 

Lexa looked down at their joined hands and bit her bottom lip, just a little. Something warm and too big began to inflate within Clarke’s chest, but Lexa pulled her hand away before it could take shape.

 

“It’s too risky,” Lexa shook her head, “People will find out.”

 

“No they won’t,” Clarke argued weakly.

 

Lexa glared, “This is why I asked you here in the first place. Ms. Blake already suspects.”

 

“Octavia is different.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lexa asked.

 

Clarke broke their eye contact before answering, “She’s my best friend.”

 

“You told her?” Lexa’s voice dripped with betrayal.

 

“No!” Clarke replied quickly, “Not about the other night, no.”

 

“But,” Lexa prompted.

 

“But I  _ did  _ tell her about the kiss, and she’s not an idiot. She was there at the bar the other night; she pretty much worked it all out.”

 

Lexa cringed and turned away. She paced over to her floor to ceiling windows and gazed out at the city nightlife, her back to Clarke. Clarke watched her for a few long moments; she could just barely make out Lexa’s face in the reflection. It was eerily impassive.

 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said finally, “When I talked to her at first - it was before. I didn’t really know where we stood. I was so confused, and I couldn’t think about anything else.”

 

Lexa nodded, but didn’t turn away from the windows, “I can understand that. I spoke to Anya then, as well.”

 

“So you get it then,” Clarke said, relieved, “It’s all good.”

 

“Yes, I suppose I can have Ms. Blake transferred,” Lexa spun around, “Or fired.”

 

Clarke stared at Lexa, her mouth hanging open, and waited for the other woman to smile or laugh or give the joke away somehow. Nothing ever came.

 

“Wha - Lexa, you - ” Clarke sputtered, “You can’t fire everyone you don’t trust.”

 

Lexa quirked an eyebrow, but her face was otherwise still neutral.

 

“Yes, I can,” she said simply.

 

In that moment, Clarke had no idea if Lexa was serious or not and she honestly wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know. She struggled to find words, but Lexa spoke again before she was able to string a sentence together.

 

“Ms. Blake is a threat,” Lexa continued, her tone cold, “If you weren’t so close to her, you could see that.”

 

Clarke narrowed her eyes,  _ was this really happening? _

 

“Her name is  _ Octavia _ ,” Clarke bit back, “And it’s  _ because _ I’m close to her that I know she’s loyal. This job, her career, is more important to her than anything. She would never do anything to endanger that.”

 

Lexa sighed, visibly deflating. Clarke was suddenly struck by the despondency she saw in the other woman’s eyes; she didn’t think she had ever seen Lexa look so empty before. Lexa turned back toward the windows. Clarke followed, her anger falling away as she walked across the room. 

 

“Lexa, please,” Clarke tried again, “Just trust me on this.”

 

Lexa breathed deeply and let her eyes drift closed, “You make it sound easy.”

 

Clarke’s chest tightened as she gazed at Lexa’s reflection. 

 

“It is,” she said softly.

 

“I barely know you,” Lexa shook her head.

 

“You know me,” Clarke stepped closer, so there was only an inch or two of space between them, and moved Lexa’s hair over to one side of her neck, “You know  _ enough _ of me.”

 

Lexa sighed. 

 

Clarke mustered up all the courage she could and leaned in closer, her lips right next to Lexa’s ear, “You feel this, right? It’s not just me.”

 

“I - ” Lexa swallowed, “Yes.”

 

Clarke stepped forward, emboldened by the relief flowing through her veins, and pressed their bodies together as she ran her fingertips along the fine hairs at the base of Lexa’s neck, “So, trust me. We can do this. Octavia won’t do or say anything, and no one else at work is gonna find out.”

 

“You can’t promise that other people won’t figure us out,” Lexa argued, albeit weakly, “It’s obvious both of us aren’t thinking clearly, aren’t behaving intelligently.”

 

Clarke kissed Lexa’s neck gently, just once, right below her earlobe, before whispering, “Why don’t you let yourself not think clearly, not behave intelligently, for once?”

 

Before Lexa could respond, Clarke kissed the same spot again. This time, however, she let her lips linger, taking a few moments to nip and suck at Lexa’s soft skin. She smiled into Lexa’s neck when she heard a quiet moan, barely more than a sigh, escape the other woman’s lips.

 

“Plus,” Clarke added between kisses, “If I’m wrong, you can just fire me, right?”

 

Lexa let out a soft, breathy laugh, “I wouldn’t do that.”

 

“No?” Clarke smiled as she let her hands wander down Lexa’s shoulders to rest at her hips.

 

“No,” Lexa confirmed, leaning back into Clarke solidly, “I guess - I don't know why, but I do trust you.  _ Enough _ , at least.”

 

Clarke grinned at the choice of wording. She kept one hand firmly at Lexa’s hip, digging her fingertips in, and let the other start to creep up Lexa’s torso. 

 

“So, maybe I could stick around?” Clarke asked as she stroked across Lexa’s ribs, just below one of her breasts, “For a little while. If you’re not busy.”

 

Lexa nodded emphatically. She let out a sharp gasp when Clarke finally stopped teasing and roughly palmed her breast. At that, Lexa spun around in the embrace, grabbing onto Clarke and kissing her in one fluid motion. She was breathless and warm, and Clarke didn’t think she would get sick of kissing Lexa anytime in the foreseeable future.

 

“Bed this time?” Lexa panted, “It’s big.”

 

“God yes,” Clarke agreed before kissing Lexa again, “I have rug burns from the other night.”

 

“This’ll be better,” Lexa said as she started urging Clarke away from the windows. 

 

“That’s a bold promise,” Clarke breathed out, trying not to trip as she shuffled backwards while Lexa kissed her collarbone, “Considering how hard you made me come last time.”

 

Lexa moaned against Clarke’s neck and gripped her hips hard as she guided them both through the large apartment. A few steps later, Clarke bumped against the arm of a couch, and nearly went sprawling over it, but Lexa wrapped an arm around her waist and kept her upright. Lexa apologized immediately, a mumbled thing that vibrated beneath Clarke’s jaw, and continued to move them forward. 

 

Clarke let herself be led, too distracted by Lexa’s lips on her skin, her hands on her waist, to do much else. They made it down the hall and to Lexa’s bedroom slowly, but without further incident. Just before they reached the bed, Lexa pulled back.

 

“Before we do this,  _ again _ , I want to be very clear,” Lexa said, panting, “This is just sex, right?”

 

“Absolutely,” Clarke agreed, “This is purely physical, extremely hot sex, and that’s all I’m looking for.”

 

Lexa nodded, “Good. Because that’s what I want, too.” 

 

“As long as you do that thing with your tongue again,” Clarke added with a wicked grin.

 

Lexa’s answering smile was almost shy and it was enough to make Clarke’s knees feel a little weaker. She happily let Lexa push her back onto the bed.

 

“I can do a lot of tongue things,” Lexa said as she straddled Clarke, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

 

“I guess we’ll just have to try them all and figure it out,” Clarke decided before pulling Lexa down into a searing kiss. 

 

They spent the next few hours figuring out exactly which  _ tongue thing _ Clarke liked best. As it turned out, she had a lot of trouble deciding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading! I've reached the end of my already written chapters, but I'll do my best to continue posting weekly. I have a lot of future scenes written or at least outlined, so hopefully there won't be any big gaps.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to "Hardest Part" by Laura Welsh and John Legend *a lot* while writing this. Do with that information what you will.

The scene in Clarke’s apartment was one of controlled chaos - which, to be honest, was more often the case than not when Octavia stopped by. Take-out cartons and beer bottles littered the coffee table, evidence of a long and leisurely dinner. The TV was on, some Food Network competition show neither of them paid much attention to, and their conversation jumped easily from topic to topic. Well, it jumped easily until Octavia asked, apropos of nothing, “So, how’s your fuck buddy?” 

 

Clarke nearly choked on her beer. 

 

“Wow, real mature,” she replied once her windpipe was clear. 

 

“Ok, but I mean - what would you like me to call her?” Octavia wondered, “Your lady suitor? Your woman friend?” 

 

Clarke picked at her Pad Thai, “Well it’s not the ‘50s, so no.”

 

“Or maybe I should just call her what she actually is - our boss and the CEO of our company,” Octavia added.

 

Clarke grimaced at that, but Octavia leaned forward, suddenly excited.

 

“Wait, do you call her Ms. Heda in bed? Is that a thing?” 

 

Clarke couldn’t fight the blush she felt dusting her cheeks, “No. And why did I invite you over again?”

 

“Because I’m your best friend, duh,” Octavia replied.

 

Clarke shrugged, “Yeah, sure.”

 

“But seriously, it’s going okay?” Octavia asked, “You haven’t said anything about it for a couple of weeks now.”

 

Clarke nodded as she chewed her food. The truth was that things were pretty damn close to perfect, but she was worried that if she started talking about it, if she started talking about  _ Lexa _ , then she wouldn’t be able to stop. And Clarke didn’t want it to seem like her arrangement with Lexa was a big deal, so she just hadn’t brought it up.

 

“It’s more than okay. We’ve kept it totally casual - I don’t stay over, we never have dinner together - and it’s awesome. The sex is,” Clarke paused, “Honestly O, it’s the best I’ve ever had, hands down. I know I’ll get bored at some point, but I haven’t gotten there yet.”

 

“Don’t be so sure - I’m not sick of Lincoln yet.”

 

Clarke smiled, “Well, that’s different. You care about him.”

 

“And you don’t care about Lexa?” Octavia asked carefully.

 

“Not like that,” Clarke said around a bite of food, “I mean I  _ like _ her, like as a person. She’s smart, obviously, and I enjoy talking to her. And she’s actually funny. Like, really funny! I don’t know if she always means to be, but she totally is. And she’s so thoughtful, it’s kind of crazy -  _ and polite! _ Probably too polite.”

 

Clarke paused to look over at Octavia and realized her friend was gaping back at her.

 

“So, yeah. I don’t hate her,” Clarke shrugged, “But if she told me tomorrow that she never wanted to see me again, I’d be fine.”

 

Octavia looked at her incredulously, “Yeah, clearly.”

 

Clarke glared back at her, “ _ Anyway _ , tl;dr - things are good.”

 

Octavia nodded and picked at her take out container, “You guys have actually kept it pretty chill at work, to my great surprise. I mean, you both still stare all the time like you want to devour each other, but that’s not new. It hasn’t gotten  _ worse _ , at least.”

 

Clarke laughed, “Shut up, we do not.”

 

“Hey, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Octavia said.

 

“And  _ also _ ,” Octavia added after a moment, gesturing to the canvases scattered around Clarke’s living room, “Don’t think I don’t realize that this recent artistic explosion matches up perfectly with when you met Lexa - I’m not stupid.”

 

Clarke glanced around the room. Calling it an “artistic explosion” seemed a little extra, but she supposed it actually wasn’t that far off from the truth. She had finished her first painting - the huge, swirling one - nearly a week ago and had since started a bunch of new smaller pieces. They were all currently leaning up against her living room walls while various layers of oil paint oxidized. 

 

“It’s just because I’m having regular orgasms again,” Clarke argued weakly, “You know how closely sex and art are tied in my brain.”

 

“Yeah maybe,” Octavia said, “How often are you guys doing it, anyway?”

 

“Depends,” Clarke shrugged, “It’s actually been a little while. We skipped a few days last week because I had my period, and then she left on a business trip. So it’s not like every single day or anything.”

 

“That’s right, she’s in Barcelona, isn’t she? I heard that office is like crazy awesome and super efficient. I guess the Griffin-blinders must have really worn off and she finally remembered we’re not the only branch of her company that exists.”

 

Clarke scoffed, “Oh, please. There is absolutely no way that our...  _ thing _ has impacted Lexa’s travel schedule. She runs that business with military precision.”

 

“That’s true,” Octavia agreed, “I have to say - your dubious banging aside - Heda’s been pretty great so far. She really knows her shit.”

 

“Now that she’s not pissing me off all the time, I would have to agree.”

 

Octavia shook her head and smiled, “She only pissed you off because you wanted to make out with her and you couldn’t.”

 

As though summoned by their conversation, a new text message from Lexa came through as the words were leaving Octavia’s mouth. Clarke’s pulse picked up as she unlocked her phone and read the message. As much as she wanted to play it cool in front of Octavia, Clarke had not been able to get Lexa off her mind over their past week apart.

 

_ What are you up to? _

 

Wait, was Lexa texting her from Spain, just to say hi? That would be… strange.

 

“Who’s that?” Octavia asked, nodding toward the phone in her hand.

 

“Uh, Lexa, actually,” Clarke frowned as she typed out a response.

 

_ Just finishing dinner,   
_ _ where are you? _

 

“So you guys just, like, text? Internationally?” 

 

“No,” Clarke answered quickly as she watched Lexa type and waited for the response, “Definitely not. We usually only text for booty calls.”

 

Octavia laughed and waggled her eyebrows, “Maybe she wants to have phone sex.”

 

Clarke scoffed at Octavia, but inwardly wondered if maybe that actually was Lexa’s intention. That could be fun.

 

_ My apartment - the trip  _ __   
_ got cut a little short. Would  _ _   
_ __ you like to come over?

 

“Oh, she’s home,” Clarke narrated absently, “So this  _ is _ a booty call. But just a regular one.”

 

Clarke grinned wickedly to herself before writing out her next reply.

 

_ No, but Id like to cum   
_ _ over ;) _

 

_ I rescind my invitation. _

 

_ No you dont _

 

_ No, I don’t.  _

 

“This is riveting, by the way,” Octavia said dryly.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Clarke said, shooting off one last text.

 

_ Missed me, huh? _

 

“Look at you, grinning like a fool.”

 

“No, I’m not,” Clarke argued, putting her phone down.

 

“It’s gross, but also kind of cute,” Octavia added before finishing her beer.

 

“I’m just excited to get laid,” Clarke explained as she started closing up the cartons on the table in front of her.

 

“So one text from her and I'm kicked to the curb? Way harsh, Griff.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, “I'm sorry, how many times did you sexile me in school?”

 

“Fair point,” Octavia conceded. 

 

The phone buzzed again. 

 

_ I landed this afternoon,  _ __   
_ fell asleep as soon as  _ __   
_ I got home, and had a  _ __   
_ very explicit sex dream.  _ __   
_ So yes, you could say  _ _   
_ __ that I missed you.

 

Clarke felt her face warming up as she replied. 

 

_ A sex dream about  _ _   
_ _ me? _

 

“Wow, ok, can you wait until I leave, at least?” Octavia asked as she stood to clear some of the containers, “I know that look.”

 

Clarke ignored her, anxious for Lexa’s response. 

 

_ Obviously. _

 

“Yeah _ ,  _ you should go. Leave the mess,” Clarke said, not bothering to look up from her phone.

 

“Wow,” Octavia called from the kitchen, “I hope you know how much shit I'm gonna give you for this.”

 

“Uh huh, have a nice night,” she replied distractedly as she typed. 

 

_ What did I do in  _ _   
_ _ this dream of yours? _

 

“Tell lover girl I say hi,” Octavia teased as she pulled on her coat. 

 

Clarke laughed mirthlessly, “Yeah, sure. She’d just love that.”

 

_ Why don’t you come  _ _   
_ _ over and I’ll show you? _

 

Clarke swallowed thickly and punched out a quick response. She was going to go over to Lexa’s place, obviously, but she was curious to see how far the other woman would take their texting first. 

 

_ Tease _

 

“Ok, bye for real,” Octavia waved from the doorway, “Have fun, be safe, all that good stuff.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” Clarke said, a gentle smile belying her sarcastic tone.

 

Clarke looked back down to her phone as the door shut behind Octavia - no new messages and Lexa was not typing anything. She frowned and stood to clear the rest of the table, slightly worried that she had pushed it too far and spooked the other woman. Clarke was just putting the last of the leftovers into the refrigerator when her phone went off again. 

 

_ New message from Lexa.  _

 

Holy shit. Clarke almost dropped her phone. The photo in the text message was closely cropped; only the bottom half of Lexa’s face, a plump lower lip ensnared between a few teeth, and her bare chest were in frame. A few of Lexa’s long fingers pinched one of her nipples. As Clarke gaped at the photo, two new texts came through in rapid succession. 

 

_ Now *this* would make  
_ _ me a tease.  _

 

_ Hurry up or I'm going  
_ _ to start without you.  _

 

Clarke blinked at the device for a few seconds more as the blood in her brain rushed somewhere decidedly lower. She finally managed to tap out a quick response before she began to scramble around her apartment, the rest of the mess from dinner forgotten. She haphazardly threw her hair up into a bun and pulled on a pair of boots as she requested a Lyft. Three minutes - barely enough time to collect her things, but she would make it work.

 

As she quickly brushed her teeth, Clarke assessed her reflection: her hair bore more than a passing resemblance to a bird’s nest and her makeup from earlier had mostly worn off. Not great, but passable. Plus, Clarke figured ( _ hoped _ ) that she and Lexa would skip the pleasantries anyway. Before she could even attempt to re-apply eyeliner, Clarke’s phone sounded the arrival of her ride. She rinsed her mouth out and grabbed her coat, making fast work of her apartment locks on the way out.

 

The ride to Lexa’s passed by quickly. Clarke was preoccupied with the anticipation of seeing the other woman, excitement and arousal tugging low in her belly as she fidgeted in the backseat of the Lyft. She was thankful to have gotten a driver that seemed as uninterested in chatting as she was. 

 

“Anywhere right up here is perfect,” Clarke said as they approached the building.

 

The driver nodded, pulling over to double park close to the doors.

 

“Thanks so much,” Clarke smiled as she slid out, “Have a good night.”

 

Clarke walked up and punched in the code for Lexa’s apartment. She wasn’t surprised to hear the door buzz itself unlocked without any question or greeting from Lexa herself. They had stopped with those pretenses after the first couple of times Clarke had come over.

 

Once she made it up to the top floor, Clarke knocked sharply on Lexa’s door. Nervous and fidgety, she fussed with her coat before the door swung halfway open and an arm grabbed her by the lapels and tugged her roughly inside. The door slammed shut behind her, and Lexa had Clarke pressed back against it an instant later. Clarke’s mouth fell open in shock and her breath caught somewhere in her chest as Lexa closed the space between them.

 

Lexa kissed hard, her mouth greedy and impatient, and she wasted no time in grinding her hips up against Clarke. Clarke’s hands instinctively flew toward Lexa’s waist to pull her closer, and she abruptly realized the other woman wasn’t wearing a shirt. Clarke managed to pull back enough to look at her. Lexa was naked. Totally, completely,  _ wonderfully _ , naked.

 

“Holy fuck.”

 

Lexa rolled her eyes and chased after Clarke’s mouth with her own. 

 

“So,” Clarke managed between kisses, “Welcome back.”

 

Lexa hummed an agreeable response as she nipped at Clarke’s bottom lip. Her hands slid from their place at Clarke’s jaw down to her shoulders, and she tugged impatiently at the collar of Clarke’s coat. Clarke laughed against her mouth and pulled away.

 

“Glad to see me, huh?” She asked, grinning.

 

Lexa nodded quickly before moving to kiss and bite at Clarke’s neck. She seemed to realize that Clarke’s coat needed to be unbuttoned before it could be discarded, so she set her hands to the task and was soon able to push the garment off Clarke’s shoulders. She kissed Clarke on her collarbone where it was exposed at the neck of her henley. 

 

“Aren’t you gonna - ” Clarke moaned as Lexa sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, “gonna tell me about your dream?”

 

“Or,” Lexa said finally, her first words to Clarke in over a week, “We don't have to talk at all.”

 

Clarke tried to swallow the lump that was suddenly sitting squarely in the middle of her throat, but had very little success. She was vaguely aware that she was already panting softly, even though she has only been inside the apartment for a few short minutes.

 

Lexa stepped back to look at Clarke.

 

“Take your clothes off.” 

 

Lexa’s gaze seared into Clarke, and Octavia’s words from earlier ran through her head. At that moment, it really did look like Lexa wanted to devour her. Clarke peeled her shirt off without another thought. She stared right back at Lexa and unhooked her bra, letting it slide down her arms. Lexa broke their eye contact first, her gaze dropping to Clarke’s breasts as her bra hit the floor. She stepped forward again and went right back to kissing at a spot just above Clarke’s collarbone, this time letting her hands wander all over Clarke’s chest. 

 

Clarke leaned back against the door, her fingers threading in Lexa’s hair as the other woman kissed down her sternum. Everything - every touch, every kiss, every bite - felt so fucking good; Clarke was content to let her take the lead. After a few minutes, as Clarke’s moans and gasps got louder and louder, Lexa pulled away again. She stared at Clarke, her eyes still impossibly intense, and dropped to her knees in front of Clarke.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

When Lexa finally broke their eye contact to unzip her boots, Clarke remembered how to breathe again. She sucked down huge gulps of air as Lexa gently tugged her shoes and socks off, throwing them blindly to the side. By the time Lexa gazed back up at her, Clarke hoped it looked like she had regained some of her composure - not that she had started out with much to begin with. 

 

Lexa bit her lip and reached forward. Slowly, maddeningly slowly, she unbuttoned and unzipped Clarke’s jeans. Clarke hooked her thumbs in the waistband, more than willing to help out, but Lexa grabbed Clarke’s wrists and shook her head.

 

“Let me,” Lexa said, her voice low, “Please.”

 

In the stillness of the apartment she worried that Lexa might hear her heart pounding against her ribcage, but Clarke just tried to nod like she wasn’t coming apart at the seams. She let her hands fall to her sides, and Lexa took their place at her waistband. She slid the jeans halfway down Clarke’s hips, pausing to kiss Clarke through her bright turquoise underwear. Clarke balled her fists up so she wouldn’t grab hold of Lexa’s head and keep her right there.

 

Lexa continued to drag Clarke’s jeans down her legs, and she followed the trail of exposed skin with her mouth. She kissed and nibbled her way down Clarke’s thighs leisurely, stopping just above her knee. She tugged the jeans the rest of the way and helped Clarke out of them before tossing them off in the direction of the boots. 

 

They made eye contact again then and Clarke found herself leaning heavily back against the door so she wouldn’t sway. Lexa smiled at that, bracing her hands on Clarke’s hips before kissing her just below her belly button. She kept her mouth right there, breath hot against Clarke’s skin, as she hooked her fingers into Clarke’s underwear, tugged them down, and steadied Clarke’s hips as she stepped out of them. 

 

Lexa inhaled deeply and licked her lips.

 

“I’ve wanted to do this all week,” she told Clarke in a whisper.

 

Clarke swallowed again; that lump in her throat really wasn’t going anywhere. She squeezed her balled up fists tighter still, until the half-moon shaped bite of her fingernails stung sharp against her palms. And then Lexa’s mouth was on her. 

 

Clarke’s head fell back against the door with the first stroke of Lexa’s tongue, and all that control she had been desperately trying to hold onto slipped lifelessly away. Her hands, traitors that they were, opened up immediately and locked onto Lexa’s hair. Breathy,  _ needy _ sounds tumbled helplessly past her lips, as though Lexa had been teasing her for hours. Maybe she had been, though, Clarke wasn’t sure of time anymore.

 

Clarke tried to focus on the important things as Lexa’s mouth and fingers, which she added at some point, relentlessly dismantled her. Things like: not falling on the floor, not screaming so loudly that Lexa’s neighbors might call the police, and not pulling Lexa’s hair too hard. It wasn’t easy. Lexa’s mouth felt impossibly warm and wet and perfect as her fingers pumped and hooked - just a bit, just enough to drive Clarke crazy. 

 

It built and built long past the point Clarke would usually come, until she thought something  _ had _ to break, but it wouldn’t. It just kept building. And right as Clarke was ready to explode with the pressure of it all, her orgasm crashed all around her. She came hard, her legs buckling enough that Lexa had to push Clarke’s hip back to brace her. 

 

Even as one of Lexa’s hands grounded Clarke against the door, the other moved slowly inside her and Lexa’s lips were still warm around her clit. Clarke tugged at Lexa’s hair blindly, hoping the other woman would understand what she needed. Lexa did, thankfully, and pulled her mouth away with one last kiss.

 

“Fuck,” Clarke panted after a few moments, “You need to stop making me come standing up. One of these times I really am gonna fall down.”

 

Lexa smiled into her skin as she dusted Clarke’s hip bone with a few gentle kisses.

 

“I’m serious,” Clarke said, trying not to do something ridiculous like giggle, “I could get hurt, you know.”

 

“I won’t let you,” Lexa murmured against Clarke’s thigh.

 

“My hero.”

 

A few seconds of quiet passed as Clarke caught her breath, until Lexa shifted positions slightly. Lexa’s hand, still buried deep within Clarke, twitched, and Clarke couldn’t suppress the gasp her overstimulated body cried out in response. She squeezed at Lexa’s scalp again in warning.

 

“You wanted to know about my dream, right?” Lexa asked after another moment and waited for Clarke’s answering nod, “I don’t remember most of the specifics, but I woke up dripping wet with that sound in my ears - the one you just made. That gasp. I had to hear it.”

 

Clarke gazed down at Lexa, struck and quiet for a long moment as she tried, again unsuccessfully, to unstick that fucking lump that would not get out of her throat.

 

“Let’s go to your bed and I’ll give you something else to dream about,” she said finally, when she wasn’t as afraid her words would get lost on their way.

 

*****

 

Some time later, as they lay panting and sated in Lexa’s bed, the sharp hum of Clarke’s cell phone rang out and disrupted their oasis of blankets and bodies. Clarke turned away from Lexa and shifted toward the bedside table, grabbing her phone.  _ Her mother. _ Clarke silenced the call with a sigh, her breaths still coming in shaky rushes.

 

“Sorry,” Clarke replied, trying to keep her tone even and light, “it was my mom.”

 

Lexa was silent for a bit - long enough for Clarke to want to slap herself for mentioning her mother while she was in bed with an extremely gorgeous, extremely naked woman.

 

“You don't get along,” Lexa’s response straddled the line between question and statement in that way of hers Clarke found she was getting used to.

 

Clarke chuckled softly, setting her phone back down on the table before turning to face Lexa. Lexa, whose smooth skin looked luminous bathed in moonlight, as she lay on her side studying Clarke with  _ those eyes _ . Clarke’s lungs worked harder to keep up.

 

“You could say that, yes,” she allowed after she took a deep breath.

 

Lexa didn’t say anything more, but her eyes continued to dance over Clarke’s features. Clarke only allowed the silence to last a bit longer. She couldn’t believe what she was saying - what she wanted to say - to this relative  _ stranger _ , but she was languid and warm and she she just felt so  _ close _ to Lexa _. _

  
“I guess I sort of blame her for my dad’s death,” Clarke tucked her hands up under the pillow, “She's a doctor and he had cancer, so.”   
  
“Even doctors cannot sense cancer, Clarke,” Lexa’s replied evenly.   
  
“I know that - I do,” Clarke sighed, “but she should've noticed. There were signs, signs a doctor should know. She should've pushed him to go get checked out earlier. It was curable. It was - he could’ve been okay.  _ Alive _ .”

  
Lexa simply nodded. 

 

“What about you?” Clarke asked after a long beat.

 

“What about me?” Lexa’s voice was so soft, like the planes of her cheeks and the slope of her hips.

 

Clarke barked out a small sound, some mixture of a laugh and a guffaw, and she reached out to pull Lexa closer. Her brain caught up as her arm covered the distance between them, so she settled for giving Lexa a gentle shove on her shoulder instead. 

 

“Your parents - are you close with them?” Clarke smiled.

 

“Both my parents are dead.”

 

Clarke froze.

 

“It's been many years, Clarke. I am fine.”

 

Clarke nodded, attempting to put together more pieces of the woman in front of her. This woman that she had only seen naked in the most literal sense of the word. 

 

“Do you miss them?” Clarke hadn’t meant the words to come out as a gravelly whisper, hadn’t meant to create such a weighty moment. 

 

“I think of my father often. I wonder what he would say about what I am doing with his company, and I wish I could speak with him,” Lexa paused, “I didn't know my mother well. She died when I was young.”

 

“But do you miss her?” 

 

Lexa closed her eyes.

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” she answered, and it came out as more of a sigh than a word, really.

 

Clarke did finally reach out then, finding Lexa’s hand where it clutched at the sheet. It was too much, she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from squeezing around Lexa’s fingers gently. 

 

They were quiet then for some time, until Clarke became aware of an ache throbbing in her chest and in her belly and in her veins. She had no idea what to do about it.

 

“So, I should go, huh?” Clarke said.

 

She pulled away abruptly as she asked. Lexa’s eyes snapped open to study her, clearly trying to piece together the shift in Clarke’s mood.

 

“It _ is _ late,” Lexa commented neutrally. 

 

Clarke nodded, holding Lexa’s wide eyes for just a moment more before rolling to face away from the other woman. She paused for a moment, trying to remember where the hell her clothes had ended up, when she felt the bed dip behind her. Was Lexa leaving to give her privacy? Clarke didn’t want to look back, so she just made her way over to the other edge of the bed and sat up. Before she could stand, a soft piece of fabric hit her back. She glanced over her shoulder to find Lexa getting back into bed and pulling the blankets up around her chin. 

 

“It’s cold,” Lexa shrugged.

 

“Oh, thanks,” Clarke said as she grabbed the material, which she now realized was a robe, and wrapped it around her body. 

 

She stood to secure the tie before smirking down at Lexa.

 

“What?” Lexa asked.

 

“Flannel, huh?”

 

Lexa rolled her eyes, “It’s a comfortable robe.”

 

“Uh huh,” Clarke smiled. 

 

She was glad that the tension seemed to have dissipated some. She wandered around Lexa’s apartment collecting her clothes, used the bathroom, and got dressed. Clarke walked back into Lexa’s bedroom just in time to hear her thank someone before setting down her phone.

 

“Who was that?” Clarke wondered, sitting on the edge of Lexa’s bed to pull her boots back on.

 

“My car will be here in a five minutes.”

 

“Lexa,” Clarke’s head snapped up, “That’s - You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“It’s late,” Lexa replied evenly, seriously, “and cold.”

 

Clarke nodded, trying to ignore the wild fluttering of her pulse, and put her other boot on.

 

“So,” Clarke asked, aiming for casual, “Will you be in the office at all the rest of the week?” 

 

“Perhaps,” Lexa replied, “Why?”

 

“I wanna sneak away and make out, obviously,” Clarke leaned across the bed to capture Lexa’s lips again greedily. 

 

The kiss escalated quickly. Clarke was thinking about tugging down the blankets that covered Lexa’s still naked body, when the other woman’s phone chimed loudly. Clarke pulled away.

 

“Car’s here,” Lexa was just out of breathe enough that Clarke ached to stay, “Would you like me to walk you out?”

 

She swallowed hard and shook her head, sliding off the bed once more. 

 

“No, please - stay warm.” 

 

Clarke walked over to the chair she had draped her coat on and was in the middle of shrugging it on when Lexa spoke again.

 

“I’ll be there on Friday.”

 

Clarke gazed down at Lexa.  _ Fuck _ , she looked beautiful. Clarke allowed her lips to creep up into a lazy, wide smile.

 

“Friday,” Clarke repeated.

 

“Goodnight, Clarke,” Lexa smirked back, settling deeper within her cocoon of blankets.

 

“‘Night  _ Ms. Heda,”  _ Clarke replied.

 

She ignored Lexa’s responding eyeroll and left the bedroom grinning. She found that she actually couldn’t  _ stop  _ grinning the entire way out of the apartment and down to the street. It was only at the sight of a very burly mountain of a man leaning against the only car outside Lexa’s apartment that her smile went away. She tried not to be intimidated, keeping her head high and shoulders back as she pushed open the lobby door and made her way to the car.

 

“Ms. Griffin?” The man had a deep, booming voice.

 

She nodded, “Yes, that’s me, hello.”

 

He looked her up and down, and Clarke wished she had taken a few more minutes to fix her hair.

 

“Gustus,” he gestured at his chest, “I’m Lexa’s driver. She asked me to give you a ride.”

 

He didn’t move from his place against the car; simply crossing his arms as he stared back at her.

 

“Yeah, she said so,” Clarke replied awkwardly, “Thanks, by the way.”

 

He only grunted in response, but he did move a few seconds after that, finally, to open the backseat door for her. She smiled at him as she climbed in, but he was clearly unmoved by her attempt at kindness. He shut the door behind her and got behind the wheel.

 

“Where to?” He asked gruffly.

 

Clarke paused. It wasn’t  _ that _ late. She could still get a drink or two before last call, and that seemed like just what she needed.

 

“Wonderland, please,” she said as politely as she could, “It’s up at 11th and Kenyon.”

 

Again, Gustus didn’t reply, he just started the car and pulled onto the road. They drove in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

 

“You work for Ms. Heda, don’t you?”

 

“I do,” Clarke responded tentatively.

 

“Little late for a business meeting.”

 

Clarke froze. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? She wanted to tell him that it was none of his fucking business, but instead she bit her tongue.

 

“We’re also friends,” Clarke said through gritted teeth.

 

“Friends,” Gustus repeated.

 

Clarke wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything. He grunted a little and locked eyes with her through the rear view mirror.

 

“You must be close  _ friends _ ,” he said finally.

 

“Excuse me?” Clarke’s temper flared.

 

“I’m only saying, I’ve worked for Ms. Heda for most of her life. I think this is the first time she’s called me at this time of night and asked me to drive a  _ friend _ home.”

 

Clarke was livid.

 

“I didn’t ask her to call you. I didn’t even know she was doing it until it was done,” she spat, “Why don’t you just pull over here and let me out.”

 

“We’re almost there, it’s fine.”

 

Gustus sounded infuriatingly calm.

 

“Fine,” Clarke said, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

 

Luckily, Gustus was telling the truth and they were almost there, but the last few minutes of the ride passed by in awkward silence. Clarke stared out the window, her fingers itching to text Lexa and complain or at least ask what this guy’s fucking deal was. That felt like a line Clarke didn’t want to cross, though.

 

“Here we are,” Gustus said evenly as he pulled the sedan over.

 

“Thanks,” Clarke said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

 

She climbed out of the car and briskly made her way into the bar. It was late for a random Wednesday night and the place was mostly dead. Anya caught her eye as soon as Clarke walked in and scowled. Clarke sighed. How had this night turned from something wonderful to something messed up so quickly?

 

“Blondie,” Anya looked at her sharply, “Long time.”

 

“Anya, hey,” Clarke smiled thinly as she settled on a barstool.

 

“Beer? Your usual?”

 

“Please,” Clarke exercised all her restraint and poured every ounce of friendliness she could muster into the word.

 

Anya eyed Clarke over the top of the tap as she pulled her beer.

 

“Where’ve you been lately?” She asked. 

 

The tone was way too faux casual. Clarke could smell a trap coming a mile away, but she had no idea  _ why _ Anya seemed to be so angry with her.

 

“Oh, you know,” Clarke replied with the same airy attitude, “Been pretty busy.”

 

“Mmm,” Anya hummed as she poured off a bit of foam.

 

When the beer was full, Anya set it down in front of Clarke and glowered at her in earnest.

 

“Let’s cut the shit, what are you doing here?”

 

“What am I doing here?” Clarke sighed wearily, “I’m having a beer. I haven’t memorized your schedule or anything, Anya.”

 

Anya frowned at her for a few seconds more.

 

“Did you come here straight from her place?” She asked, her voice dripping with venom.

 

“W-what?” Clarke sputtered, her jaw dropping.

 

Anya didn’t clarify her question, just stared across the bar. After an awkward stand off, when it became obvious that Anya wasn’t going to back down, Clarke relented. 

 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business where I spend my time,” she replied before taking a sip of her beer.

 

Anya clenched her jaw and balled up her fists as she leant over the bar to get closer. For a split second, Clarke was actually worried the bartender was going to hit her. 

 

“It’s my business because she fucking  _ likes  _ you, you idiot.”

 

A sudden jolt tore through Clarke’s chest.

 

“I also know that she cut her business trip short because of you,” Anya continued, “ _ And _ you have sex hair, but here you are before last call anyway.” 

 

Anya walked away to serve another customer before she could respond. Clarke sighed. Things were so good, most of the time - when it was just the two of them. It was when other people got involved that things were complicated. Sometimes, she just wanted to grab Lexa’s hand and take her away for a while and not look back. 

 

“I like her too, you know,” Clarke said when Anya was close again, barely loud enough to be heard over the soft music.

 

Anya looked up at that to study Clarke, but didn’t respond as she grabbed a rag and wiped down the bar.

 

“Then why are you here?” Anya kept her eyes down on her task as she asked.

 

Clarke furrowed her brow, confused.

 

“What? That’s not - we don’t,” Clarke tried to explain, “I don’t stay over. That’s not what we do.”

 

Anya looked up, frowning, “That’s dumb.”

 

Clarke took another sip of beer and shrugged, “Good thing I don’t actually give a fuck what you think then.”

 

Anya scoffed at her, but even  _ that _ seemed a bit friendlier than she had been just a minute ago.

 

“So, you didn’t come here to try and pick someone up?”

 

Clarke actually cackled.

 

“ _ What?  _ Anya, you were there when I tried to pick  _ Lexa _ up. Did it look like something I was good at? Or had much experience doing?”

 

Anya considered that, “I guess that’s true.”

 

Clarke shook her head, “I really just wanted a beer before I went to sleep. No ulterior motive.”

 

Anya looked slightly abashed at that and offered her the beer on the house, which Clarke figured was about as close to an apology as she would ever get from Anya. A group of already drunk looking college aged kids came in after Clarke nodded her thanks and Anya shuffled away to serve them. Clarke was messing around on her cell phone when a new message from Lexa came through.

 

_ You made it home okay? _

 

Clarke winced. Even though she wasn’t  _ doing _ anything, and Lexa wasn’t even her girlfriend, she still felt guilty about bailing to go to the bar.

 

_ Gustus is scary. Why  _ _   
_ _ didn’t you warn me? _

 

When in doubt, change the subject, Clarke figured. She wasn’t  _ lying, _ exactly.

 

_ Oh no, what did he do?  _ _   
_ _ I’m sorry. _

 

_ He’s just very papa bear-  _ __   
_ I got the sense he didn’t  _ _   
_ __ like me too much

 

_ If it’s any consolation, I’m _ __   
_ sure it’s not actually about  _ _   
_ __ you.

 

_ Does he try to scare  _ __   
_ away all the girls you  _ _   
_ __ make him drive?

 

Lexa didn’t respond immediately, so Clarke distracted herself by chugging nearly half her beer.

 

_ I don’t usually make him _ __   
_ drive any girls home, so - _ _   
_ __ I guess, yes.

 

Clarke did not know how to respond to that, but luckily Lexa saved her the trouble and sent another text almost immediately.

 

_ By the way, what does  _ _   
_ _ “Omw” mean? _

 

_??? _

 

_ That was your response to _ __   
_ the picture I sent earlier.  _ _   
_ __ (Delete that, by the way.)

 

_ Oh! Omw = “On my way”  _ __   
_ Have you really not  _ __   
_ heard that before?  _ _   
_ __ (And do I have to?)

 

_ No, I have not.  _ _   
_ _ (Clarke. Yes. Do it now.) _

 

_ You’re such a grandma  _ __   
_ (FINE but you better show  _ __   
_ me your tits again real  _ _   
_ __ soon to make up for it)

 

_ Friday? _

 

Clarke paused before she began to type, wondering how best to insinuate that they would be fucking at the office again.

 

_ NOT while I’m in the   
office, btw. _

 

Clarke smiled widely, the beer and the conversation warming her from the inside out. 

 

_ See, I know btw. I’m hip. _

 

Clarke laughed out loud at that, unfortunately just as Anya walked over.

 

“Are you texting with her?”

 

Clarke felt her face flush.

 

“That’s also none of your business,” she replied, refusing to make eye contact.

 

“So fucking dumb,” Anya muttered under her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm sorry this took such a long time! I have like four jobs and my summer has been busy as heck. Hoping to have more frequent updates moving forward.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to way too many times while writing *this* chapter: "Too Much" by Sampha. Also, this is primarily fluff so I'm sorry/you're welcome.

“Lexa?” 

 

Clarke traced patterns around the curve of Lexa’s shoulder as she waited for an answer. She wondered if perhaps Lexa had drifted off to sleep, laying there with her back to Clarke. Which, obviously, falling asleep after sex would be weird for them, but something about today had just been  _ different _ from the moment Lexa walked into the office that afternoon _. _

 

Lexa hadn’t avoided Clarke at all. In fact, she actually invited Clarke on a walk to get a coffee, ostensibly to discuss the progress on the Port City designs, and flirted the entire way there and back. Well, Clarke was pretty sure she was flirting. They had basically just been talking, but it involved Lexa smiling a lot more than she normally did at work. Clarke liked it.

 

At around 5:30, she headed home to waste a few hours before Lexa’s inevitable  _ “Would you like to come over?” _ text came through. But again, Lexa surprised her. Clarke received a message much earlier than expected, a photo of some shitty hotel art with the caption,  _ “The paintings in this conference room offend me *for* you.” _ Clarke had blinked at it for a moment in shock, but quickly recovered and just rolled with the conversation. They texted off and on, about inconsequential things, until Lexa finished her meetings. Then Clarke finally got to see the tits she was promised a few days earlier.

 

“Hmm?” Lexa finally hummed her response in a tone of voice that was quickly becoming Clarke's favorite: lazy and low and just  _ open _ . 

 

Clarke ran her fingertips up and down Lexa’s arm as she asked, “What were you like when you were a kid?”

 

The question had been kicking around in the recesses of Clarke's brain since Lincoln mentioned knowing Lexa and her family. That conversation happened over a month ago, so Clarke had no earthly idea why the fuck she was asking now. But she found that right there and then, warm and comfortable in Lexa’s bed, she didn’t care. She just  _ really _ wanted to know.

 

There was a just brief pause this time before Lexa responded, deadpan, “Smaller.”

 

Clarke shoved Lexa’s shoulder blade and scoffed as the other woman let the momentum flop her forward, away from Clarke, and onto her belly. 

 

“So, just as annoying, then?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Lexa agreed, eyes twinkling as she pivoted her head around to gaze at Clarke. 

 

Clarke shook her head, unable to turn down the ridiculous smile gracing her lips, and stared right back. 

 

“I imagine you were a handful,” Lexa decided suddenly, her words partially muffled by a pillow pressed near the corner of her mouth, “Muddy clothes, scraped knees, full of wild stories about faraway lands.” 

 

The picture Lexa painted wasn't too far from the truth, but Clarke didn't want to give her another reason to be smug. 

 

“You studied all the time, didn't you?” She began instead, “Mini-Lexa: quiet, and serious, and kind.  _ Your _ clothes always matched, down to the socks. I bet you hated your hair, even though it's absolutely gorgeous. I bet you always tried to get it to behave.”

 

Lexa looked up at Clarke, her face serious, for a few moments longer before breaking into a gentle smile.

 

“You can't prove a thing.” 

 

“Oh, I don't know,” Clarke shrugged and glanced around the mostly dim bedroom, “I’m sure I could find  _ some _ photographic evidence of baby Alexandria in this apartment.”

 

“Clarke,” Lexa's voice wrapped around her name and Clarke wanted to sleep in the space between the letters, “you wouldn't.”

 

Clarke quirked up an eyebrow and rolled away from Lexa sharply, hoping the other woman would take the bait. She did, of course, and Clarke found herself trapped beneath Lexa's slight yet solid form, her wrists somehow pinned up near her head and one of Lexa's thighs between her own. 

 

“Don't you dare.” 

 

And Clarke was wrong before,  _ this _ was probably her favorite one of Lexa’s voices: smiling and playful and lovely. 

 

Clarke struggled only marginally, so Lexa would keep her wrists pinned, before replying, “Or what?” 

 

She was aware that her voice had dropped, that it had taken on the rough edge it did often times when she was with Lexa. Lexa was aware too, obviously, as her eyes narrowed and her smile went from playful to mischievous. Clarke had her. She shifted her trapped thigh up between Lexa's legs and reveled in the other woman's sharp exhale. 

 

“Clarke,” Lexa honest to god  _ whined _ , and Clarke’s whole stomach seemed to drop somewhere outside her body. 

 

“Or  _ what? _ ” She pressed up harder, watching as Lexa’s mouth fell open.

 

Lexa didn’t respond, not verbally at least. She stared down at Clarke with piercing eyes a few seconds longer before dropping to capture Clarke’s lips. The kisses were, honestly, a mess - too much tongue and teeth and panting, which was often the case when they got caught up like this - but Clarke was coming undone rapidly beneath Lexa anyway. 

 

Clarke realized her hands were free, as Lexa had released her wrists in favor of drifting lower, so she grabbed onto Lexa’s hips. She held them steady and close to her as she moved her thigh between Lexa's legs. Lexa moaned into their kiss before tracing her lips down Clarke’s neck toward her collarbone. She nipped at the tender skin there sharply and Clarke knew there would be a mark come morning, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

 

The next thing Clarke knew, Lexa's mouth and hands were on her breasts and she had somehow squirmed her way out of Clarke's grasp on her hips. Clarke settled for tangling her fingers in Lexa's hair, already wild and unkempt from their earlier activities. She was somehow breathless and aching by the time Lexa settled between her legs, even though her overworked body had only just recovered from her last orgasm.

 

Clarke knew she was a goner as soon as Lexa’s mouth was on her; she just hoped she wouldn't come  _ too _ embarrassingly quickly. But with Lexa's tongue hitting all the right spots and Lexa's hands roughly squeezing, digging into her hips and thighs, it was a losing battle. Clarke came hard mere minutes later, her hands gripping tightly onto Lexa’s hair. 

 

She was vaguely aware of Lexa's lips moving, trailing gently over her thighs and hips, as she came back into herself. Eventually, Clarke opened her eyes and found Lexa looking up at her, grinning.

 

“What are you smiling about?” Clarke asked, breathless.

 

“I really like watching you come,” Lexa murmured into the fragile skin at Clarke’s hip bone before kissing her softly.

 

Clarke inhaled deeply, sharply, at that, but found that no amount of oxygen was able to counteract the effect of Lexa's words on her ribcage. She ran her hands along Lexa’s shoulders and urged the other woman to come back up toward the head of the bed. Lexa complied, dropping a few more languid kisses along Clarke’s torso on the way. When Lexa finally made it up to the pillows, she kissed Clarke as deeply as her staccato breathing would allow.  

 

“You okay?” 

 

Clarke took a moment to respond, distracted by tasting herself on Lexa’s lips and by the fingers that continued to trace up and down her body.

 

“Mmm,” Clarke husked, “Yeah, sorry. I just need a second.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Lexa nuzzled into Clarke’s neck, and she could feel the other woman’s smug grin against her skin, “I take it as a compliment.”

 

Clarke laughed and draped her arms limply around Lexa before replying, “You should.”

 

Lexa shifted so that her weight was on her hip, off to the side of Clarke, and propped her head up with one arm. Those dancing fingers kept busy, though, trailing across Clarke’s chest.

 

“You don’t have to,” Lexa bit her lip, “You know.”

 

Clarke tilted her head, “I  _ don’t  _ know, actually.”

 

“You don’t have to,” she paused, “reciprocate _.  _ If you’re too tired, I mean. I’m fine - I’ll be fine.”

 

Clarke cupped her hand around Lexa’s jaw, taking a moment to trace the other woman’s lips with her thumb, and studied the way Lexa’s eyes fluttered closed.

 

“ _ Fine, _ huh?”

 

“Cl-arke,” the name spilled out, broken and shallow, from Lexa’s parted lips as Clarke’s fingertips brushed over her breast on their way down to Lexa’s hips.

 

“So, if I were to just,” Clarke reached back up and pinched Lexa’s nipple, smirking at the gasp she got in response, “ _ stop. _ That’d be okay with you?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Lexa nodded, swallowing thickly.

 

Clarke stared at her, holding Lexa’s half-lidded gaze for several long seconds as she silently dared the other woman to call chicken first. 

 

“Okay,” Clarke shrugged suddenly, shifting away toward the edge of the bed, “if you’re sure you’re  _ fine. _ I should get home anyway, it’s pretty late.”

 

Clarke swung her legs off the bed and sat up, trying to ignore the head rush that came with moving her flushed body so quickly. She turned to regard Lexa over her shoulder and couldn’t help but smirk when she found Lexa on her back, staring up at Clarke with wide disbelieving eyes.

 

“Can you call me a car?” Clarke asked, the picture of innocence.

 

Lexa’s wide eyes narrowed and she pulled the sheet up over her chest, “It’s not that cold out tonight. Plus, you’re a big girl, I have faith you’ll make it home on your own.”

 

Clarke quirked an eyebrow as she noticed the outline of Lexa’s hands moving over her body.

 

“What, are you too busy to help me get home?” Clarke asked.

 

“Mmm,” Lexa agreed before worrying at her lip again.

 

“Lexa, are you touching yourself?” 

 

Clarke’s mouth went dry as the other woman nodded. Lexa's stare burned into Clarke, her lip-bitten face looking incredibly kissable, as the sheets shifted in a slow rhythm.

 

"Fuck," Clarke breathed as she turned back toward Lexa, "Tell me how you feel."

 

"I'm wet," Lexa managed, "Touching you always makes me so wet."

 

Clarke crawled across the bed, brought her mouth close to Lexa’s ear, and whispered, “So you’re not fine?”

 

“God,” Lexa hissed, “ _ no. _ ”

 

Clarke kissed Lexa's neck and trailed her fingertips down the other woman's arm until she reached her hand. She grabbed onto Lexa's wrist and slowly, deliberately, dragged it back out from underneath the sheet, delighted that the wetness coating Lexa’s fingers was visible even in the dim bedroom light. She took Lexa's fingers into her mouth, moaning at the taste of her. 

 

Lexa’s breath hitched sharply. She was still staring at Clarke with an intensity that might've been intimidating if it wasn't so fucking hot. Clarke removed Lexa's fingers slowly, taking her time to taste every drop and savor every one of Lexa's reactions, before she crashed their mouths together. 

 

Once they started kissing again, Clarke wasted no time in running her hands all over Lexa's body. The other woman hadn't been lying about how wet touching Clarke made her; she was soaked.

 

"Fuck, Lex," Clarke moaned into their kiss, "You feel so fucking good."

 

Lexa's only response was a sharp cry as Clarke circled her clit. 

 

"Tell me what you want," Clarke breathed against Lexa's neck as she slipped the tips of her fingers inside.

 

"Fuck," Lexa panted, "Just - fuck, Clarke. Make me come."

 

Clarke grinned wickedly at the tone, impatient and demanding, before nipping at Lexa's collarbone. They didn't talk after that; Clarke let Lexa's body tell her exactly what she needed.

 

When Lexa came a few minutes later, Clarke was surprised to feel her own ribcage tighten around her lungs just as Lexa clenched around her fingers. Lexa pawed at Clarke's shoulders blindly as she rode out her orgasm, her eyes screwed up tight and breathy moans spilling from her open lips. 

 

Clarke watched, enraptured, until it became overwhelming. She nuzzled into Lexa’s neck, her own breath somehow coming in gulps as she peppered the soft skin with kisses. Clarke sighed into the space under Lexa’s ear as she felt aftershocks ripple through the women beneath her. 

 

Lexa shivered and giggled, actually  _ giggled _ , as she smacked Clarke on the arm, “Don’t do that!”

 

“This?” Clarke breathed, smiling, onto Lexa’s neck.

 

"Yes," Lexa squeezed Clarke's shoulder, " _ that. _ "

 

"Right, sorry," Clarke grinned.

 

As she apologized, Clarke shifted her weight and her fingers hooked slightly inside of Lexa. The small movement was enough to trigger stronger pulses around Clarke's fingers.

 

" _ Clarke _ ," Lexa whined, pulling at Clarke's arm, "Get your hand out of there right now."

 

"Fine, fine," Clarke relented. 

 

She focused on Lexa's face - the way her mouth dropped open, the way her eyebrows crinkled up - as she slowly slipped her fingers out and rested her hand on Lexa's stomach. Lexa's eyes stayed shut for a few long moments as she tried to settle down. 

 

“Stay,” Lexa breathed suddenly.

 

“You  _ just _ told me to get out,” Clarke smiled, reaching back down between Lexa’s legs.

 

“No,” Lexa opened her eyes and rolled them immediately, grabbing onto Clarke’s wrist and tugging it back up to rest on her chest, “Stay  _ here _ . Tonight.”

 

“Oh,” Clarke tensed.

 

“Or don’t,” Lexa released Clarke’s wrist and looked up toward the ceiling, “I just thought - I’m feeling pretty boneless. I thought you might be, too.”

 

“Oh. Yeah.”

 

“I can call you a car,” Lexa nodded to herself and rolled away from Clarke, “I wasn’t serious before, by the way. When we were bluffing? Of course I’ll help you get home.”

 

“Wait,” Clarke reached across the chasm of bed sheets between them, her hand falling gently on Lexa’s shoulder.

 

Lexa froze, but didn’t turn back.

 

“I - I’ll stay,” Clarke swallowed, “I’d like to stay.” 

 

Clarke wasn’t even sure those words were true,  _ per se _ , but she desperately wanted Lexa to stop whatever spiraling she was obviously doing. 

 

“Clarke,” she started, her voice weary.

 

“Only if you have an extra toothbrush, though,” Clarke gently squeezed Lexa’s shoulder, “You may have seen me naked, but I draw the line at morning breath."

 

Lexa rolled onto her back before replying, “I have several, yes. In the top left drawer.”

 

“Of course you do,” Clarke nodded, trying to smile despite the fact her stomach was somewhere up in her throat, “Be right back, then.”

 

Clarke didn’t wait for a response, just rolled over to the edge of the bed. Luckily, she noticed Lexa’s discarded button-down shirt on the floor not far from where she sat. She grabbed it, shrugged it on, and started doing up a few of the buttons as she padded quickly out of Lexa’s bedroom. 

 

Clarke slumped against the bathroom door as soon as she shut it behind her. She sighed as she checked her flushed reflection in Lexa's huge, spotless mirror. She looked… fucked. Thoroughly fucked. There wasn’t really another way to put it. 

 

Clarke shook her head and tried to calm her racing pulse before walking to the sink on shaky legs. She splashed some cold water on her face and then opened the top left drawer to find: 6 toothbrushes in their packaging, lined up perfectly, 2 tubes of toothpaste, and 3 boxes of dental floss. Clarke laughed, her tension forgotten for the moment, because it was just so  _ Lexa. _

 

She could do this, Clarke decided as she ripped into a toothbrush, lime green - her favorite color of the bunch. She  _ liked _ Lexa, she liked her weird quirks and her silences. She was comfortable with Lexa, most of the time. Spending the night didn’t have to be a  _ thing.  _ She did, in fact, feel pretty fucking boneless and sliding back into Lexa’s ridiculously comfortable, ridiculously large bed wasn’t going to be a hardship by any means. 

 

Clarke brushed her teeth thoroughly, deciding to focus on getting each and every tooth clean instead of thinking any more about her current situation. She used the toilet and washed her hands quickly and took a moment to regard herself in the mirror one last time, nodding stoically at her reflection as though she were heading into battle.

 

The glow of Lexa’s phone lit her face up ghostly blue, and Clarke watched her eyes flick up from the screen to meet her as she entered the room. She noticed the way Lexa’s eyes widened and the thick swallow she forced down as she watched Clarke walk toward her. Clarke smirked, glad she had only been able to fasten a few of the buttons on Lexa’s shirt. Lexa was smaller than her, it wasn’t like she was trying to purposefully be a tease or anything.

 

“Are you checking your email?” Clarke asked knowingly, unbuttoning the few closures that kept her decent and shrugging off Lexa’s shirt as she slid back under the sheets.

 

“Uh, no,” Lexa’s response sounded more like a question and Clarke grinned again, proud that she had the power to short-circuit Lexa's brain with one ill-fitting shirt.

 

“Sure,” Clarke burrowed down into the bed, tugging the covers up around her neck as she turned to face Lexa.

 

Lexa, who was still definitely starting at her, phone forgotten at her side. 

 

“You need the bathroom?” Clarke prompted.

 

“Yes, right,” Lexa nodded seriously, as though they were in a business meeting and not laying in bed together naked.

 

Lexa slipped from the bed and Clarke unapologetically stared at her ass as she walked a few steps to grab the flannel robe where it was draped over an overstuffed armchair. 

 

“Would you like something to sleep in? A t-shirt, or anything?” Lexa asked as she turned around, tying off the robe belt.

 

“Do you  _ own _ a t-shirt?” 

 

Lexa glared at her - or at least, Clarke was pretty sure that Lexa was glaring in the darkened room, “You can't just say 'No, thank you,' like a normal person, can you?”

 

Clarke laughed softly, “I’m fine. Unless you  _ want _ me to put something on?”

 

“No,” Clarke’s smile grew even wider at how quickly Lexa responded, “I just - I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that's all.”

 

Lexa turned and walked quickly out of the room without waiting for another comment from Clarke. This was okay. Teasing Lexa, making her flustered, it was all good. Clarke would just sleep - she was exhausted enough - and make sure to keep to her side of the bed - the bed was big enough. Then tomorrow she’d thank Lexa for her hospitality and head home. She was just delaying the process by a few hours, really.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft click of the bedroom door as Lexa shut it behind her. She paused for just a moment before asking, “Would you like some water?”

 

“No,  _ thank you _ ,” Clarke repeated Lexa's earlier words back at her.

 

Lexa shook her head, though Clarke could tell she was smiling, as she walked toward the bed. She set the glass she carried down on her bedside table before addressing Clarke again, “Do you need anything?”

 

“Nope,” Clarke shrugged beneath the blankets.

 

Lexa didn’t respond, instead moving around the room to close the blinds. The dim room got even darker, and Clarke strained her eyes to watch Lexa remove her robe and crawl into bed.

 

“You’re so  _ nice, _ ” Clarke said after a moment, “Does anyone else know how nice you are?”

 

“I have manners, Clarke. That’s all.”

 

“Okay,” Clarke subconsciously shifted closer toward the middle of the bed as she spoke, “So, do you have any weird sleep stuff I should know about?”

 

“Weird sleep stuff?”

 

“Yeah, you know, like do you sleepwalk or sleep talk? Or thrash around?” Clarke paused, “Are you a cuddler, Ms. CEO?” 

 

“I’m a very still sleeper, I think,” Lexa added on the last bit after a moment’s pause. Clarke didn’t question it.

 

“I move around a lot,” Clarke offered, “But your bed is pretty huge, so I probably won’t bother you. You can just push me, if I do.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Alright, well,” Clarke shifted, “Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight. Please make yourself at home, if you need anything during the night,” Lexa turned onto her stomach, but her face was still facing Clarke.

 

“So fucking polite,” Clarke said, her amusement shining through.

 

“I try to be, yes,” Lexa shifted lower in the bed, “Sweet dreams, Clarke.”

 

“You, too,” Clarke rolled over to face away from Lexa. She felt drowsier than she expected to, her eyes heavy and her body relaxed. After just a few minutes of listening to Lexa’s rhythmic breathing, Clarke felt herself drifting to sleep.

 

She woke only once during the night, early morning actually, consciousness wrapping around her slowly. She was warm, almost too warm, but  _ so _ comfortable. She realized after a few moments that she was spooning Lexa and had migrated all the way over to her side of the bed. Clarke was embarrassed for a moment, but quickly realized that Lexa was actually holding her arm, effectively keeping her in place. Clarke smiled and shimmied closer, the edges and planes of their bodies locking together.

 

The next time Clarke woke the room was considerably brighter and she was alone in the middle of Lexa’s giant bed. She lifted her head with a start, scanning the room for the other woman. There was no sight of Lexa, so Clarke rolled across the mattress to grab her phone. 10:26am. Considering how late they had gone to bed the night before, she really hadn’t slept in  _ that _ much. Clarke burrowed further beneath the covers, content to lounge about for a few more minutes. She was floating somewhere between sleep and awake when a loud crash down the hall jolted her upright.

 

Lexa appeared at the door twenty seconds later, her eyes owlish, “I woke you, I’m sorry.”

 

“No,” Clarke cleared her throat, voice thick with sleep, “I was half-awake, just being lazy.”

 

Lexa nodded, “I’m usually much better at unloading my dishwasher.”

 

Clarke rubbed her eyes as she took in Lexa’s appearance. The other woman’s face was pink, skin gleaming with sweat. Her hair was back in an almost unruly ponytail and she was wearing  shorts and a long sleeve running shirt that was slightly too big for her. Her thighs were so pink they were almost red.

 

“You went for a run?”

 

Lexa smiled, “Yes. And I’d appreciate if you didn’t say that like you think I’m insane, by the way.”

 

“I said nothing of the sort,” Clarke flopped back down onto the pillows, still fuzzy from sleep.

 

“Are you - Do you need to leave?”

 

“No?” Clarke lifted her head, eyebrow quirked.

 

“Oh, just - your phone is in your hand. I wasn’t sure,” Lexa fidgeted in the doorframe, her fingers toying with the hems of her sleeves, “I could make you some food. Breakfast, I mean. I was going to make pancakes.”

 

Clarke couldn’t believe that the woman before her was the same one that commanded boardrooms, the same one that made million dollar deals without breaking a sweat. She felt too warm, again, and the sudden memory of being pressed up against Lexa’s back the night before didn’t help.

 

“Pancakes sound really good," Clarke said. 

 

Apparently her stomach and her mouth didn't get the memo that the rest of Clarke had been planning to leave as soon as she woke up.

 

“Good,” Lexa nodded, fighting a smile, “I just need to shower - I’ll be very quick. Do you need the bathroom?”

 

“It’s fine - I can wait a few minutes,” Clarke curled into a ball beneath the sheets.

 

Lexa lost the battle with her lips as a grin stretched across her face, “Great.”

 

Clarke let herself drift in and out of consciousness for a few more minutes, semi-aware of the shower turning on and, after some time, off. It wasn’t until a bit later, when the scent of brewing coffee reached her nostrils, that she managed to drag herself out of Lexa’s bed. She tugged Lexa’s robe around her body, slipped on her watch, and used the bathroom, still in a morning haze.

 

Clarke shuffled out to Lexa’s kitchen and perched herself onto a stool at the island in the middle of the room. She sat with her head in her hand for a moment, watching Lexa mix the batter. Lexa, whose hair was wild and damp from her shower. Lexa, who was wearing  _ sweatpants _ and   _ slippers _ and what looked like a well worn cardigan hastily thrown over a tank top. And  _ glasses  _ that were just a little too big for her face.

 

“Clarke?” Lexa, who was also looking right at her and had apparently been speaking for some time.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I asked if you wanted some coffee,” Lexa smiled, “But it looks like the answer is yes.”

 

“Please,” Clarke said dramatically.

 

Lexa shuffled over to the other side of the kitchen to fix the coffee.

 

“Just cream, right?”

 

“Mmhmm,” Clarke agreed, her chest expanding at the fact that Lexa knew the way she took her coffee. It was stupid, she tried to rationalize, because they had gotten coffee together a few times at the office. Plus, a lot of Clarke’s friends knew how she took her coffee - it wasn’t like a weird, fussy order or anything. Lexa set the mug down in front of Clarke.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Lexa nodded as she made her way back to the stove, turning on the burner as she passed by.

 

“Do you like blueberry pancakes?” Lexa asked, opening the fridge, “Or - I might have chocolate chips?”

 

“Blueberries are great,” Clarke replied as she lifted the mug, “I can pretend I’m being healthy.”

 

She took a sip of coffee.  _ Fuck _ , it was warm and rich and delicious. There was a chance she moaned, just a little. Lexa gave her a look, eyebrow raised, her lips just barely turning up. 

 

“Shut up,” Clarke took another sip, glaring over the rim of her mug.

 

Lexa’s smile bloomed and she turned back toward the batter, blueberries in hand, without a word. They didn’t speak again as Lexa worked for a few minutes, getting the pancakes on the griddle and then cleaning up some of her mess. Clarke just watched, sipping her coffee and tapping her foot along with the music, and started to feel a little weird about how  _ not weird _ it all felt.

 

"I didn't take you for a Gillian Welch fan," Clarke commented absently. 

 

"Why's that?" 

 

"I don't know," Clarke shrugged, "It's just not what I expected."

 

"What - you assumed I only listen to classical music or something equally pretentious?" Lexa asked, amusement coloring her voice as she flipped a pancake.

 

Clarke flushed; that had sort of been exactly what she was assuming.

 

"No, of course not," she mumbled around the lip of her coffee mug.

 

Lexa laughed, pure and clear. Clarke kind of hated that she still felt proud of herself every time it happened, but she really did. The sound of Lexa's laughter should probably be tested for some kind of auditory witchcraft.

 

"I like a lot of Bluegrass and Country," Lexa explained, checking on another of the pancakes, "My mother was from Tennessee, and her favorite was Emmylou Harris. I don't have that many memories of my mom, but it seems like Emmylou is the soundtrack for most of them."

 

Lexa paused to flip a few more pancakes before glancing over her shoulder with an apologetic grimace.

 

"Sorry, that was probably too much."

 

Clarke shook her head, "No, not at all. I feel the same way about the Rolling Stones. My dad didn't have a bad voice, but he did a  _ terrible _ Mick Jagger. Like really, truly awful."

 

Clarke laughed and set down her coffee. Thinking about her dad didn't hurt the way it used to.

 

"Pretty much anytime he was cleaning, he would pretend that the mop or broom or whatever was a microphone stand. Didn't matter who was around - he would just get into full Jagger mode," Clarke paused to mimick a little shimmy, "I used to get so embarrassed when I had friends over and there he was - just singing and dancing like a maniac while he mopped the floor."

 

"It sounds like he was a really good dad," Lexa said, smiling softly as she carried over a couple of plates of pancakes.

 

"The best," Clarke agreed, "I just wish I had kept his Stones records. Good memories, you know?"

 

Lexa nodded and set a plate down in front of Clarke, "Why didn't you?"

 

"Wasn't my choice, unfortunately," Clarke replied before picking up a fork, "These look and smell incredible, by the way. Thank you."

 

"Of course," Lexa said, sitting down across from her, "Why wasn't it your choice?"

 

"My mom kind of shut down after he died. She got rid of a ton of stuff without telling me first. This is one of the only things of his I still have," Clarke explained, gesturing to the watch on her wrist, "Just another reason my mom and I don't get along."

 

Lexa nodded thoughtfully for a moment before responding, "I can understand where she was coming from, though."

 

Clarke tilted her head in question, her mouth too full of pancake to speak.

 

"I just -" Lexa put her fork down as she collected her thoughts, "I'm not trying to invalidate your experiences, but I can relate to your mother in that story. When Costia - my wife - when she died, I was… lost. I did things I regret now; I reacted poorly, treated people I love terribly."

 

Clarke swallowed, not sure what to say. 

 

"It felt like my life was over, too," Lexa continued quietly, "We had made so many plans and we had built this whole world together, and it was all gone in an instant. 

 

"So, I can see why she thought she would never want to listen to the Rolling Stones ever again - even though it was awful to you and it wasn't  _ right _ ."

 

Lexa took a deep breath and picked her fork up again, "Wow, I'm sorry. This has all gotten pretty heavy for pancakes on a Saturday morning, hasn't it?"

 

"It's okay," Clarke said immediately, surprising herself with how  _ okay _ it actually was, "Thank you for sharing that with me."

 

Lexa nodded and took a bite of her pancakes.

 

"And thanks again for breakfast," Clarke added, feeling the need to fill up the silence, "These are so good."

 

Lexa swallowed before responding, "It was my pleasure. I like to cook."

 

"Oh you're one of those, huh?"

 

"Yes, Clarke," Lexa rolled her eyes, "I'm one of  _ those. _ "

 

Clarke smiled, happy for more casual conversation.

 

"So, what are you up to this weekend?" She asked before popping another big bite into her mouth.

 

"Not a whole lot," Lexa shrugged as she cut into her pancakes, "I'll probably have to do some work at some point, but nothing terribly pressing. I'm having brunch with a few friends tomorrow."

 

"I'm having brunch with friends tomorrow too," Clarke mentioned with a grin, "Maybe we should go to the same place so we can sneak away and do it in the bathroom."

 

Lexa shook her head as she chewed, an amused smile on her face.

 

"Anya would see that coming a mile away and absolutely rip us to shreds."

 

"Oh,  _ Anya _ is one of the friends? Nevermind, she's terrifying," Clarke laughed.

 

"She's not so bad when you get to know her," Lexa replied, "We've been through a lot together. She's very protective of me."

 

"I am acutely aware of that," Clarke said around a bite of pancake.

 

Lexa shot Clarke a guilty look.

 

"I can tell her to ease up," she offered apologetically. 

 

"No," Clarke retorted quickly, "Please. I feel like she'll smell my fear. It's fine, really."

 

"Alright, if you're sure," Lexa said before taking another bite.

 

Clarke nodded, "Very sure, thank you."

 

They finished up their pancakes in relative silence, Gillian Welch's voice still ringing out softly in the background. 

 

"So no plans today, then?" Clarke asked before taking a sip of coffee.

 

Lexa shrugged and stood up, her plate in hand, "I was thinking about heading over to the farmers market on U."

 

"Oh, that's on my way home," Clarke replied, standing to help Lexa clear the table, "I could walk with you, if you want some company."

 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Clarke wanted to take them back. Lexa nearly dropped the mug in her hand, and was just barely able to set it in the sink without breaking it.

 

"Well, it's not for you, really," Clarke added nervously a moment later, "I think I might be getting scurvy. I need produce."

 

Lexa looked at her for a moment longer before letting out a soft chuckle, "You don't have scurvy, Clarke."

 

"Not  _ yet _ I don't, but you have no idea how I normally eat," Clarke joked, relief rushing through her veins as she deposited her plate and mug into the sink.

 

"I'm glad I went with blueberry pancakes then," Lexa retorted, and they smiled at each for a few beats too long to be casual.

 

Lexa cleared her throat before continuing, "Alright, then. Since your health is on the line, I won't say no to some company. I just need to change."

 

"I don't know about that," Clarke said, "This is a  _ really _ good look on you."

 

Lexa rolled her eyes as she replied, "I would not be caught dead outside the house like this."

 

"Fine, fine, but maybe keep the glasses?" Clarke asked.

 

Lexa sighed dramatically, but she didn't say no.

 

"Did you want to take a shower or borrow clothes before we go?" Lexa asked as she loaded the dishwasher.

 

"That's okay, I'll just shower when I get home," Clarke replied, "Do you need help with the dishes?"

 

"Nope, I'll take care of the pan later. We can get going."

 

Clarke followed Lexa down the hall to her bedroom, nerves tugging her insides apart. She collected her clothes and tried to focus on getting changed without stealing glances at Lexa. Which, she realized, was absolutely ridiculous. She had seen Lexa completely naked several times now - was intimately familiar with her body, even - but she felt like a teenager in the gym class locker room. In the end, Clarke managed to get herself dressed  _ and  _ she actually caught Lexa staring.

 

"See something you like?" Clarke asked with a smirk as she clasped her bra.

 

Lexa looked away, her cheeks pink, and didn't answer. 

 

They walked out together a few minutes later, and Clarke was inwardly thrilled that Lexa hadn't put in her contacts. 

 

"Oh wow, it's finally starting to really feel like spring," Clarke commented as soon as they made it out to the sidewalk.

 

There was a warmth in the air that Clarke hadn't felt for months, probably not since she and Finn had broken up. She inhaled deeply and smiled; happy even for the overcast skies and humidity. Lexa grinned back at her.

 

"It is," she replied as they began to walk.

 

The stroll to the farmer's market was leisurely and comfortable. Clarke was content to make small talk, transitioning from the weather to favorite foods as they approached the tents set up along the sidewalk. Lexa, as it turned out, was a big fan of produce. She found something new to get excited about at each stall, and even somehow coerced Clarke into buying an assortment of vegetables she had no idea what to do with.

 

"And why can't I just use scallions?" Clarke asked, holding a bunch of ramps that Lexa had thrust into her hands.

 

"Clarke," Lexa sighed, "Would you use common everyday paints when you had a unique, artisanal paint set available?"

 

"I mean, I don't know, maybe?" Clarke replied, pushing the ramps back into Lexa's hands, "If I didn't know how to paint with the artisanal shit."

 

"I can send you some recipes, you're going to love it," Lexa argued, "I'm buying these for you."

 

Clarke was about to push back again, but she noticed a familiar face out of the corner of her eye. Jasper was there, walking along with some girl Clarke had never seen before.

 

"Fuck," Clarke muttered.

 

She grabbed Lexa's hand and pulled her around to the other side of the farm's stall quickly.

 

"You just made me steal from them," Lexa pointed out, confusion written on her face as she held up the ramps.

 

"Sorry, but Jasper is just around that corner," Clarke said, looking past Lexa to see if he had noticed them.

 

Lexa's demeanor changed immediately; her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched as she squeezed the ramps a little too tightly.

 

"He can't see us here together."

 

"I  _ know _ ," Clarke responded. Jasper was an incorrigible gossip.

 

"Just come with me," Clarke added after a moment, "Don't look in his direction, he won't know it's us from our backs."

 

Before Lexa could reply, Clarke slipped her hand into Lexa's free one and started walking away from the farmer's market, tugging Lexa along with her.

 

"I live in the other direction," Lexa said after half a block.

 

"But I live this way. We can get up to my place and then you can call Gustus for a ride," Clarke reasoned.

 

It was an unnecessary plan and Clarke wondered if Lexa would call her out on it. They could just separate and walk in different directions. Even if Jasper saw both of them, it wouldn't really be odd for them to be out and about on a weekend. Lexa glanced at Clarke with an unreadable expression before she nodded her agreement.

 

They made it another block before Clarke realized they were still holding hands.

 

"Shit, sorry," she said, letting go of Lexa's hand with an apologetic smile.

 

"That's alright," Lexa replied softly, and shifted the bag she carried into her other hand. They walked for another block before Clarke broke the silence again.

 

"Hey, sorry I kind of turned you into a thief back there," she said, "I panicked."

 

Lexa laughed, "You're forgiven. I'm glad you acted quickly."

 

"Plus, I'm probably technically an accomplice anyway," Clarke added.

 

"That's true."

 

As the words were leaving Lexa's mouth, Clarke felt a raindrop land on the tip of her nose.

 

"Uh oh," she said, "Do you feel that?"

 

"Feel wha- Oh," Lexa said, wiping at her forehead, "Yes."

 

A few more fat droplets splattered on Clarke's head and shoulders, and she picked up her pace.

 

"We're just like one block away, so hopefully we can - " Clarke began before she was interrupted by a cascading sheet of rain.

 

"Or not," Clarke finished, looking up at the sky and shaking her head.

 

She linked her fingers with Lexa's again and started to make a run for it, "Come on!"

 

They jogged up to Clarke's apartment, both grinning the entire way despite the rain pouring down on them. Clarke laughed, out of breath, as she let them in.

 

"I'm not sure the running helped," she said, gesturing to her soaked clothes and glancing over her shoulder at Lexa as she climbed the stairs, "But I got a workout in today, so we're even now."

 

Lexa smiled back, just a small, amused upturn of her lips, and nodded, "Yes, Clarke. We're even."

 

Clarke let Lexa into her apartment before locking the door behind them. She turned to Lexa and finally had a moment to take in her appearance. Her hair was a mess, plastered to her face in some places and coming out of its messy bun. Her shirt was drenched and sticking to her body in ways that made Clarke's belly twist. Lexa took off her rain-speckled glasses and went to wipe them on her shirt before she realized there wasn't a dry piece of clothing on her body. She set them down on the counter next to her bag from the market and looked back toward Clarke.

 

Clarke stepped closer to Lexa and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. She tried to wipe away some of the droplets dotting Lexa's face, but it was a lost cause without a towel. Lexa leaned into her touch.

 

"Did you want to call Gustus?" Clarke asked as she ran her thumb along Lexa's bottom lip.

 

"I should," Lexa said, but made no move to disentangle herself from Clarke.

 

"Right," Clarke agreed and ran her hand down Lexa's neck to brush off her collarbone, "You should."

 

"Or," Clarke added after a second, "You could wait out the storm here."

 

Lexa licked her lips before responding, "That's true. The roads might be a mess."

 

"They might be. They probably are," Clarke nodded and leaned in closer, "You don't want to put Gustus in danger."

 

"So the responsible thing to do is just," Lexa brushed her lips against Clarke's, "Stay."

 

"You should definitely stay," Clarke agreed, closing the tiny distance between them, "Just until the storm passes."


	9. Chapter 9

Fat raindrops tapped out a rhythmic pattern against the window; the steady soundtrack filtering through the dim light of Clarke's bedroom. It was the perfect environment for a late afternoon nap, and Clarke found her eyes drifting closed. She startled awake a few seconds later, but the damage was done.

 

"Did you just fall asleep?" Lexa asked, her voice incredulous.

 

"Nope," Clarke said, shifting under the blankets, "Resting my eyes."

 

"You were talking to me not even two minutes ago and now you're asleep. Wow."

 

"I'm not asleep," Clarke argued weakly.

 

"Sure," Lexa replied, and Clarke heard her shift in bed, "Do you want me to leave?"

 

Clarke opened her eyes. Lexa's face was mere inches from her own, and the other woman gazed at her through eyes that didn't look very alert either, thank you very much.

 

"No, sorry," Clarke leaned forward and brushed her lips against Lexa's with the whisper of a kiss, "I just need some time to recover."

 

"That's okay," Lexa flashed her a lazy grin, "You know, we don't have to have sex every moment we're together."

 

"I know, but you're really good at it."

 

Lexa smiled again, sheepish this time, and Clarke tamped down the urge to reach out and pull her closer.

 

"I can't remember the last time I spent a whole day being this lazy," Lexa remarked, eager to sway the conversation away from her sexual performance. 

 

"Lazy?" Clarke scoffed, "I don't know what shower sex  _ you  _ were having, but that shit was practically acrobatic." 

 

"I mean," Lexa said, "Not productive."

 

"We produced a bunch of orgasms, stop selling us short," Clarke grumbled, "And anyway, it's still raining out there - very dangerous. You're stuck here."

 

"Right," Lexa agreed, "There isn't any alternative."

 

Clarke nodded, closed her eyes, and scooted further beneath her covers.

 

"I'll be right back," Lexa said, laughter coloring her voice.

 

Drowsiness washed over Clarke's body as she listened to Lexa move around her small apartment. Drawers opening and closing, the toilet flushing, the sink running - it all felt very domestic. Intimate, almost. But Clarke was content, her limbs warm and heavy, and she didn't have the energy to dwell on such complicated thoughts.

 

"I don't know how you live like this," Lexa said, sighing as she entered the bedroom. 

 

"Excuse me?" Clarke cracked open one of her eyes. 

 

"I just scoured the entire apartment while you were  _ resting your eyes _ and you only have three candles," Lexa frowned, holding the items out for Clarke to see, "Just  _ three _ ."

 

“So?”

 

“That’s not enough,” Lexa pointed out. 

 

“For what?” Clarke wondered as she sat up slowly. 

 

“For  _ anything. _ ”

 

Clarke laughed, completely endeared by Lexa's furrowed brow, and the dramatic tone of her voice, and the way she was wearing one of Clarke's old paint-splattered t-shirts. She shook her head at Lexa and reached for her phone on the nightstand.

 

"Where are your matches?" Lexa asked, unfazed by Clarke's reaction, as she carefully arranged the candles on the dresser.

 

"Kitchen," Clarke pointed vaguely toward the door as she unlocked her phone, "Drawer next to the stove."

 

Clarke pulled up the menu for one of her favorite delivery spots, scrolling through idly while Lexa set off to get the matches. 

 

"Hey, how do you feel about Chinese food?" Clarke asked as soon as Lexa stepped back into the bedroom.

 

Lexa paused in the doorway, a quirk in her eyebrow as she contemplated the question.

 

"I feel very good about Chinese food. I was in Beijing recently and found a great new place for dumplings. Actually, I could recommend several must hit restaurants if you're interested."

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, "Okay, I forgot for a second that you're kind of a snob. How do you feel about cheap Chinese food that can be delivered to my house in like fifteen minutes?"

 

"A snob?" Lexa narrowed her eyes, affronted, "I am not a snob. You didn't word your question very specifically."

 

"Sure, okay," Clarke nodded at Lexa before looking back down at the screen, "Anyway, I'm starving, so I'm probably going to order enough food for about ten people. Just let me know if you want anything specific."

 

Clarke was about to start the order - definitely scallion pancakes, maybe crab rangoon, too - when the bed shifted with Lexa's weight. Clarke delighted in the feeling of Lexa's smooth skin pressing against her own as the other woman slid right up next to her.

 

"I'm  _ not _ a snob," Lexa grumbled, candles forgotten for the moment, "Give me your phone, I'll order."

 

Clarke handed over her phone, laughing softly. With nothing else to distract her attention, she let her gaze linger on Lexa's cheekbones. Her jaw. Her lips. Clarke swallowed thickly, wondering how she had ended up here: sat naked in her bed next to a goddess of a woman ordering Chinese food on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Lucky seemed like an understatement.

 

"What is it?" Lexa asked without taking her focus off the menu.

 

"Hmm?"

 

"You're staring at me," Lexa finally glanced up, "So, what is it?"

 

Clarke flushed and quickly averted her eyes. There were some very interesting pieces of lint on her comforter, as it turned out.

 

"You took my phone," she argued weakly, "I don't have anything else to look at."

 

"Here," Lexa replied, grabbing her own device and unlocking it as she passed it to Clarke, "Take mine. I have some games."

 

Clarke blinked up at Lexa in surprise before accepting an iPhone - the newest model, naturally. Clarke studied the screen for a moment; everything was sorted orderly into folders. Clarke noticed the little red dot reading "178" above the email icon, and tried not to feel guilty about keeping Lexa away from important work. Instead, she opened up the folder marked games and swiped through screen after screen of apps.

 

"I'm sorry," Clarke said, " _ Some _ games? Jesus, it looks like this phone belongs to a teenage boy."

 

"Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke," Lexa replied, frowning, "I travel quite often and spend a lot of time waiting for meetings to start. I like to keep  _ my _ mind sharp."

 

"Oh, so, Fruit Ninja keeps your mind sharp, huh?" Clarke asked as she opened the app.

 

"Sharp mind  _ and _ sharp reflexes."

 

"Uh huh," Clarke laughed as she started a new game, "Make sure you get me Szechuan chicken, by the way."

 

Lexa nodded, her concentration already back on the menu. Clarke took the opportunity to study Lexa's profile one last time - not long enough to get caught again; just enough to seal in the memory. 

 

"Okay," Lexa announced a few minutes later, "So far I've got crab rangoon, beef satay, steamed pork dumplings, Singapore style noodles with vegetables, Szechuan chicken, and moo sho pork. What do you think?"

 

Clarke raised her eyebrows, impressed that Lexa had somehow managed to pick most of her favorites.

 

"I think if you add scallion pancakes you've got an award-winning order right there," she said.

 

"Award-winning, yes," Lexa said, smiling, "We will definitely win the  _ Most Amount of Food Ordered for Two People  _ award _. _ No contest."

 

"Okay, but let's switch phones because you've gotten notifications for like ten emails in the past four minutes and it's stressing me out."

 

"Sorry," she said as she handed Clarke's phone back to her, "Some people do not have any concept of what the word  _ weekend _ means."

 

"Funny to hear that coming from you. Before today, I would've expected you to be one of those people."

 

"No, I have a very healthy work life balance," Lexa replied, though she didn't meet Clarke's eyes as she spoke.

 

Clarke stared at her, an eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

 

"Most of the time," Lexa amended, sneaking a sidelong glance at Clarke.

 

Clarke continued to stare.

 

"Sometimes," Lexa tried once more before sighing, "Well, I  _ try _ ."

 

"It seems like you take on a lot. Not that you aren't managing everything well, but couldn't you get help?"

 

"I could, sure. I haven't needed it. Plus, my father managed everything on his own and he expected the same level of efficiency from me. He made that perfectly clear.”

 

"I'm surprised you ever saw him, if he worked as much as you do," Clarke said before realizing that she sounded like a jerk, "Sorry, that came out wrong."

 

"No, you're right actually. I didn't see him very much as a child. He traveled even more than I do now," Lexa paused, looking away as she placed her phone back on the nightstand, "But it hasn't really been an issue for me. I don't have kids, obviously."

 

"Do you want them? Kids, I mean,” Clarke clarified unnecessarily after a pause. 

 

Lexa hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. Clarke was about to retract the question, tell Lexa that it was none of her business, when the other woman began to speak. 

 

"I don't know. Costia and I… we talked about it. Made plans abstractly. Started to make plans… less abstractly. I think she would’ve been an incredible mother. But now," Lexa trailed off. 

 

"I don't know,” she repeated after a moment, “I haven't thought about that in a long time."

 

Clarke nodded, unsure what to say. It hit her all over again, how much Lexa had really lost. 

 

"If I did ever have kids, or a wife," Lexa swallowed, "I would cut back on work. It can be tedious anyway. I'm sure 75% of these emails are from people panicking that our numbers aren't high enough in Q2."

 

"They're not?" Clarke asked, curious. She never really thought about the state of the company beyond her work.

 

"They're on the low side, but it's not the end of the world." Lexa shrugged, "I'm not worried."

 

"Well if you're not worried, I’m not worried,” Clarke paused, “ _ Boss. _ "

 

Lexa frowned at her, "Let's not talk about work."

 

"Why? Still think you're taking advantage of me, Ms. Heda?" Clarke asked before letting the blanket slip down from where she had it tucked under her arms. 

 

She delighted in how quickly Lexa’s face went from creased in mild annoyance to completely slack at the sight of her breasts. Emboldened, Clarke shifted and swung a leg over Lexa's hips to straddle her. The blankets settled around Clarke's bare thighs as she sat tall, smirking at the surprised form beneath her.

 

"Taking advantage," Lexa repeated, blinking up at Clarke, "No, not in so many words."

 

Lexa licked her lips, her eyes sweeping intently across Clarke's exposed skin for a few moments before she threaded a hand behind Clarke's neck to help close the gap between them. They met halfway, Lexa capturing her lips in a kiss more frenzied than Clarke was expecting considering they had already spent most of the day wrapped up in one another.

 

Just moments after the kiss began Clarke pulled back, startled and breathless, when she felt something buzz against her shin. Her phone. She grabbed it, her hands clumsy, and was just able to stop herself from silencing the call as she recognized the incoming number as her front doorbell.

 

"Shit," she mumbled, answering and pressing one to unlock the door in rapid succession before tossing her phone off to the side of the bed.

 

"Delivery's here. This," Clarke said, gesturing between the two of the them, "Is to-be-continued after I stuff my face with chinese food."

 

"Wow," Lexa replied, her tone deadpan, "What a proposition."

 

"And give me back my shirt so I can get the food," Clarke demanded, hands already slipping beneath the fabric before the words were out of her mouth.

 

"You have other shirts."

 

The words were clearly performatitive; Lexa's lips turned up in amusement as she shifted her hips and raised her arms to help Clarke undress her. Clarke tugged the shirt over Lexa's head and clutched it in one hand, making no move to get dressed. 

 

"Need this one," Clarke said.

 

Lexa's smile deepened.

 

"Of course you do."

 

A knock at her apartment door finally pulled Clarke's attention away from Lexa's distractingly pretty nipples. She sighed.

 

"If we ignore them do you think they'll just leave the food and go?" Clarke asked, running the fingertips of her free hand down the middle of Lexa's chest.

 

"Not really, no," Lexa replied.

 

Clarke frowned, but nodded and tugged the shirt on over her head. She slid off Lexa with a another wistful sigh, grabbing a pair of boxers from the floor as she moved across the room. 

 

"Don't you dare get dressed," Clarke said, looking back over her shoulder as she cracked open the bedroom door.

 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Lexa said, a deep smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

 

An unbidden answering grin took over Clarke's face, and she slipped quickly out of the bedroom so Lexa wouldn't see it. She floated across her apartment, a fizzy feeling of contentment radiating out from her belly, and swung open the door. Instead of the welcome visage of Clarke's usual delivery guy, however, there stood a woman. Her mother, to be precise.

 

The smile slipped from her face in an instant.

 

"Mom."

 

Abby gave a little nervous wave before speaking.

 

"Hi, Clarke."

 

"Hi," Clarke said, sagging against the door, "Hi."

 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dropped in on you like this," Abby apologized.

 

"No, it's okay. I just - what are you doing here?"

 

"I had a last minute conference in Baltimore this weekend and I finished my sessions early today," she explained, "I thought I'd pop over and see if you were free."

 

Clarke didn't respond right away, too caught up in studying her mother's face. Abby looked the same, mostly, but Clarke noticed new creases etched into her forehead. The last time they'd stood like this, face to face, was more than four years ago. Abby had accompanied Clarke across the country, ostensibly to help with the long distance move, but their relationship was already fractured in too many big ways for it to be a simple mother-daughter adventure. 

 

Clarke had counted down the minutes until Abby left her alone in a cramped and dingy apartment. When her mother was gone, Clarke tried not to think about how the space already felt more like home than their beautiful Southern Californian bungalow had in years. 

 

"I should've called, I know, but," Abby paused, "To be honest, I wasn't sure if I'd lose my nerve before I got here."

 

Clarke softened.

 

"A ten minute heads up text wouldn't have hurt," Clarke said, gesturing to herself.

 

Abby laughed, "I didn't expect you to be in your pajamas at nearly 5pm."

 

She shifted the purse on her shoulder, and Clarke realized with a start that they were still standing in her open doorway.

 

"Oh, come in, of course," Clarke stepped back and opened the door wider, "Let me grab your coat."

 

"Thank you, sweetie."

 

Abby shrugged off her coat, handing it over along with her purse. Clarke gathered her mother's things and turned to hang them up in her small front closet.

 

"Hello." 

 

The curious lilt in Abby's voice spun Clarke around immediately and she watched, horrified, as Lexa stepped out from her bedroom. 

 

"Lexa," Clarke exhaled; the shock of her mother's sudden appearance having made her forget the other woman was even still there.

 

Clarke silently thanked all the deities she knew of - and maybe a few that she didn't - that Lexa was at least dressed, albeit in Clarke's clothes. They were just a little big on her, though, so Clarke hoped her mom wouldn't put two and two together. 

 

"Mom, this is my -" Clarke swallowed, "This is Lexa. Lexa, this is my mother, Abby Griffin."

 

"It's nice to meet you, Dr. Griffin. Sorry to interrupt," Lexa said, striding up and offering her hand, which Abby took immediately.

 

"It's nice to meet you too, Lexa. And it looks like I'm the one who is interrupting, so no need to apologize," Abby said, shooting Clarke a pointed look.

 

"We were just watching an old movie," Clarke said quickly, "Rainy day and all."

 

"Yes," Abby smiled knowingly, "It's a perfect day for an old movie."

 

" _ Casablanca _ ," Clarke added, "We were watching  _ Casablanca _ . 'Play it again, Sam,' you know. Great film."

 

Lexa narrowed her eyes quizzically in Clarke's direction. 

 

"Anyway," she said, turning back to Abby, "I should get going. I'm sure you two want to spend time together to catch up."

 

"It's pouring out there, do you have a ride?" Abby asked.

 

"I'll just call my driver, I'm sure he can get over here in no time."

 

If Abby had any reaction to Lexa mentioning a personal driver, she didn't show it.

 

"Why don't you sit and chat while you wait; it really is nasty out there," Abby said, and Clarke couldn't help but marvel at the way her mother managed to frame it as something more than a suggestion while still sounding polite. 

 

"Sure, that sounds nice. Excuse me while I make the call," Lexa said and, to her credit, she didn't falter at all. 

 

Clarke awkwardly tried to catch Lexa's eye as she stepped away, hoping maybe she could communicate how sorry she was for the turn the day had taken. She was unsuccessful. 

 

She ushered her mom into the living room instead, and then happily busied herself by collecting her phone from the bedroom and getting a glass of water for Abby. 

 

"So, Lexa, where are you from?"

 

Clarke steeled herself for the conversation with a deep breath as she approached. She set the water and her phone down and sat next to her mother on the couch, across from where Lexa was perched on an ottoman. 

 

"I grew up in Maryland, not too far from here actually," Lexa replied.

 

Abby smiled her thanks at Clarke and picked up the glass as she asked, "And what do you do for work?"

 

"Mom, let's not interrogate her, geez," Clarke said before Lexa had a chance to answer.

 

Both women looked at Clarke curiously.

 

"It's fine," Lexa said, looking back to Abby, "Not an intrusion by any means. I run a company. Not always the most exciting job, more number crunching than I'd prefer, but I enjoy it. Clarke's told me you're a doctor. What kind of medicine do you practice?"

 

"I'm a Trauma Surgeon, so I've got more excitement than I can handle most of the time," Abby replied, smiling politely, "But i'm sure you're downplaying your job! Running a company, that's a lot of responsibility. And you look so young."

 

"It was my father's company before it was mine, so I've been helping out for practically my whole life."

 

"And what kind of company is it?" Abby asked.

 

Lexa hesitated, wringing her hands. For the first time, she looked uncomfortable in Abby's presence. 

 

"That's kind of a funny story, actually," Clarke interjected.

 

"Oh?" 

 

Abby turned her attention to Clarke.

 

"So," Clarke began, "Remember how I told you my company was bought by a larger company? Like a few months ago?"

 

Abby nodded, her expression hardening.

 

"That was Lexa's company."

 

"I see," Abby said through pursed lips.

 

"We met outside of work, before the sale happened, and we," Clarke paused, "We became friends. It was just kind of a crazy coincidence."

 

"A coincidence," Abby said, voice flat, "I'll say."

 

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Lexa cleared her throat, inching forward in her seat.

 

"Dr. Griffin, I understand that this might seem untoward," she said, "But I hope you'll accept my word that I don't have any ulterior motive here."

 

"Ulterior motive?" Abby asked, tilting her head.

 

"I just mean, I’m sure this doesn’t look great to you. But as Clarke said, the circumstances have been very, well," Lexa explained, "Coincidental." 

 

"There’s that word again," Abby said, her tone clipped and her jaw tense. 

 

"Technically," Clarke piped up, "It’s a different word. Coincidence. Coincidental."

 

" _ Clarke _ ."

 

They said her name in unison, complete with matching tones of annoyance, and she almost started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Luckily for Clarke, her phone began to buzz on the table.

 

“Food’s here,” Clarke said as she popped up. Lexa joined her a moment later.

 

"Good timing," Lexa explained, "My driver is here as well."

 

She held her phone up as though it were proof, which led Clarke to believe that Gustus was not, in fact, actually outside her apartment yet. 

 

"It was nice to meet you, Dr. Griffin," Lexa said, moving toward Abby, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your time with Clarke."

 

Abby stood and they shook hands once more.

 

"Likewise," Abby replied, "And I'm sure I will, thank you."

 

Clarke escorted Lexa out, whispering an apology under her breath as she unlocked the door. 

 

"It's okay," Lexa said with a gentle shake of her head, "I just hope I didn't ruin the visit."

 

"Trust me when I say that this was doomed from the beginning, whether you were here or not."

 

Lexa frowned, reaching out to squeeze Clarke's hand as she made her way to the open doorway.

 

"I hope she surprises you," Lexa said quietly as she walked out, "I'll be around later, if you want to talk."

 

Clarke could only nod; any additional words of goodbye or thanks caught in her throat after hearing Lexa's soft declaration. She watched Lexa disappear down the stairwell, replaced just a moment later by her usual delivery guy. After thanking him and taking the bags, Clarke headed back into the kitchen to unpack the stacked cartons.

 

"You two ordered food?" Abby asked as she wandered over, "I feel bad for interrupting."

 

"You didn't seem to feel too bad when you were giving her the stink eye a few minutes ago."

 

Abby sighed, "It just took me by surprise, Clarke. That’s all."

 

Clarke shot a suspicious look across the countertop, but it seemed like Abby genuinely had no interest in fighting or lecturing. Clarke glanced back down at the food. There was more than enough to share, and Lexa's earlier words rang through her mind.

 

“Chinese?” She offered.

 

Abby's lips turned up in a small, hopeful smile as she answered, "That sounds nice."

 

Despite all the reservations Clarke still had about Abby, about their relationship, about  _ everything _ , she found herself smiling back at her mother. She finished setting out the takeout containers and grabbed a couple of plates as she recited all the various food options she and Lexa had ordered. Abby's eyes widened.

 

"We were hungry," Clarke explained sheepishly.

 

"Clearly," Abby said, "Do you have another friend hidden away in your bedroom to help eat this?"

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and began dishing out Szechuan chicken.

 

"Because Lexa didn't really strike me as the type to gorge herself on takeout," Abby added as she began to make a plate for herself.

 

Clarke shook her head, unable to keep from smiling. Her mother had a point, after all.

 

"Maybe let's not talk about Lexa," Clarke said, her tone light.

 

Her mother acquiesced for the time being, and they both stacked their plates high with an assortment of food. Clarke led the way back into the living room and they both settled on opposite ends of the couch.

 

"She was very polite, can I say that much?" Abby asked as she sat down.

 

"Mom."

 

"And  _ very _ pretty."

 

_ "Mom." _

 

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her mother, but her words and glare lacked their usual venom. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but truth be told all the teasing and talking felt nice. It felt like the way things were when she was younger.

 

"Okay, okay," Abby said, hands raised in defeat, "I'm sorry."

 

"It really is complicated," Clarke offered after a moment, "That wasn't all bullshit before."

 

Abby nodded, looking thoughtful as she chewed a bite of food.

 

"Do you want to tell me about it?" 

 

If someone had asked Clarke whether she wanted to talk to Abby about her relationship with Lexa even just 24 hours ago, she would have laughed right in their face. But spending the past full day (and night before) with Lexa had been… a lot to process. There was something new there, Clarke was sure of it; a tender slip of a thing she didn't have a name for yet.

 

Clarke sighed, "It's just - I didn't expect to like her this much. We met, like I told you, before we knew about all the work stuff. I bought her a drink and we talked, but I thought that would be the end of it."

 

"Did you talk, or did you  _ talk _ ?" Abby asked knowingly.

 

"We literally just talked," Clarke laughed, "Actually, she rejected me."

 

Abby frowned, "Not the most auspicious beginning."

 

"Like I said, it's complicated," Clarke paused, "She was married, before, and wasn't interested in being picked up in a bar. Can't really blame her."

 

"Married," Abby repeated, her eyes narrowing.

 

"Oh, um, she's not married  _ now _ ," Clarke said, "Her wife passed away, like a year and a half ago."

 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Abby said, softening immediately, "She's so young."

 

"Yeah, we've talked about it a little, about her wife. And I've even talked with her about dad," Clarke paused, "And you, kind of."

 

Abby looked surprised at that, but said nothing. She merely took a sip of water and waited for Clarke to continue.

 

"It was, I don't know, eye-opening, I guess," Clarke said, looking down to pick at her food, "When dad died, I was just so  _ angry _ , you know? I didn't really stop to think about things from your perspective."

 

Clarke looked up.

 

"I know it's a little late to say so, but I'm sorry about that."

 

"It's not too late, sweetie. Not at all," Abby said, shaking her head, "I feel the same way.”

 

Abby put her plate down and turned to fully face Clarke. She took a deep breath. 

 

“Clarke, losing your dad was the absolute worst thing that I've gone through in my life; some days I wasn't sure I would survive it. And that pain, that full-body ache of just  _ missing _ him, it made me blind and it made me mean and it made me - God, Clarke, I am  _ so  _ sorry. I should've been there for you, and I wasn't."

 

Abby wasn't crying, but the shake in her voice led Clarke to believe it was a close thing. She realized with a start that her own eyes were not as dry as they had been a few minutes ago, and it was jarring to feel anything other than ire when it came to her mother.

 

"We both made mistakes," Clarke offered, "I'm not saying that everything is totally cool now, but I'm not as angry as I used to be. And I think I'd like to try? With you, I mean, to try and have a relationship again. If that's something you might be interested in."

 

Abby nodded, her eyes shining, "I'd like that very much."

 

Clarke smiled and wiped at a tear that was threatening to spill down her cheek. Today really was not turning out the way she expected it to at all.

 

"So if we're having a real relationship," Abby continued after a moment, "Do I get to ask more questions about Lexa?"

 

Clarke laughed as she picked up a dumpling, and she almost couldn't believe how easy it could be. 

 

"Don't push it."

 

*****

 

_ Bet you weren't expecting to  _ _   
_ _ meet the parents yet huh? _

 

Clarke waited a good half an hour before sending a follow-up text.

 

_ That was a joke.  _

 

She looked at her phone for a few seconds more, hoping at least to catch a glimpse of the telltale three dots to let her know Lexa would respond. Having no such luck, Clarke put her phone down, sighing deeply, and attempted to get back to work. She managed a solid ten minutes of clicking around online before she picked up her phone again. 

 

_ But seriously, I know meeting  _ __   
_ my mom was unexpected,  _ __   
_ but you don't have to  _ _   
_ __ avoid work because of it.

 

After the way they had left things on Saturday, with Lexa offering to talk, Clarke had not thought twice about reaching out on Sunday. The call went to voicemail, but Clarke hadn't found that strange; she assumed Lexa was out at brunch, or running errands, or catching up on a mountain of work. Today, however, Lexa still hadn't returned her call or any of the now multiple texts she sent since.

 

__ Lex seriously, people are   
__ wondering where you are around   
__ here. I can step out for some   
__ coffee if you're trying to avoid me?  
_ Youre missing a meeting with Jaha  
_ __ and im getting worried

 

Clarke's phone rang a few moments later, and her chest expanded as soon as she saw Lexa's name light up her screen.

 

"Hey," Clarke's breath rushed out, "Finally. Is everything okay?"

 

"Hello to you too," said a voice that was decidedly  _ not _ Lexa.

 

"Anya."

 

"Jesus, are you always this needy?" Anya wondered with disdain, "Her phone's been going off non-stop since I got here."

 

It was an exaggeration, of course. Clarke had only sent a handful of text messages and hadn't tried calling all day, but Anya's words stung. 

 

"What's going on?" Clarke asked, ignoring the jab, "Why do you have her phone?"

 

"Relax, I didn't look back at any of your sexts."

 

" _ Anya _ ," Clarke said, not bothering to mask the annoyance in her voice. 

 

"Lexa is sick," she explained finally, "Really high fever, dehydrated, the works. We made plans for lunch today and she bailed without any word, so I stopped by to see what was up."

 

"How bad? Is she okay?" 

 

"She's pretty out of it, but I finally got her to take some advil and drink some juice," Anya replied, "That seemed to help."

 

Clarke sat up straighter, a million medical possibilities cycling in the back of her mind courtesy of a childhood spent hearing stories of rare diagnoses.

 

"Should she go to the doctor?" Clarke asked.

 

"She claims she just needs to sleep it off."

 

"Well, just because she's being difficult it doesn't mean you should listen to her," Clarke countered.

 

"Can you let me finish?" Anya barked back, "She _claimed_ that she's fine, but I'm not stupid and I called her doctor like five minutes later. She's coming by in an hour or two."

 

"Oh," Clarke said. 

 

She tried to shake the feeling that she was a child being reprimanded.

 

"Her doctor makes house calls?" She asked a moment later.

 

"I don't know if you're aware of this Clarke, but Lexa is quite wealthy."

 

Before Clarke could bite out a pithy comeback, she heard a weak, muffled utterance of her own name in the background. 

 

Anya must have nodded in response, because the next thing Clarke heard was Lexa croaking out, "Let me talk to her." 

 

Anya sighed and passed the phone off without saying goodbye.

 

"Clarke," Lexa's voice rattled through the phone.

 

"Lex, hey," Clarke cooed, "How're you feeling?"

 

"I'm fine," she said, though she sounded exactly the opposite.

 

"I hope things went alright with your mom. I meant to call you -" Lexa continued before her voice dropped out for a moment, "Fell 'sleep."

 

"That's alright, don't worry about it. You need to rest up."

 

"Does your mother hate me?" 

 

Lexa's voice sounded even smaller and more muffled, and Clarke wondered if the phone fell onto her shoulder.

 

"No, of course not," she answered immediately.

 

"She must think I'm awful," Lexa continued, ignoring Clarke, "Because I am. I am awful, Clarke."

 

"Lex, honey, no," Clarke said, and she swallowed thickly, "You're not."

 

Lexa just grunted in response.

 

"Why don't you get some sleep, okay?" Clarke asked gently, "I'm sure you'll feel better after that."

 

"Can't sleep. Everything hurts."

 

"I know, but you have to try," Clarke said, "Can you put Anya back on for me?"

 

"You don't want to talk to me?" Lexa asked, and Clarke's heart wrenched uncomfortably with the words.

 

"I want you to save your voice," Clarke explained, "Does it hurt to talk?"

 

"A little," she admitted.

 

"Let me just ask Anya something, okay?"

 

"Okay."

 

Clarke heard some background noise, but couldn't make out any of the words.

 

"Yeah?" Anya asked.

 

"She sounds horrible."

 

Anya laughed humorlessly, "Thanks for the newsflash."

 

"How many advil did you give her?" Clarke questioned, rolling her eyes at Anya's inability to not be an asshole.

 

"Two."

 

"Give her two more, and make her drink at least one full glass of something."

 

"Yeah, okay, I'll do that now," Anya said, complying with surprisingly little vitriol, "But I have to go to work soon."

 

Before Clarke could respond and tell her that she can't leave Lexa in this state, Anya continued.

 

"There's no one to cover my shift," Anya explained, "I already tried."

 

Clarke thought about that for a moment before replying, "She really shouldn't be alone."

 

"Can you come over?"

 

"Me?" 

 

"There's," Anya paused, "There's not really anyone else. And she's been asking for you."

 

Clarke's stomach dropped. She wasn't sure if she was pleased or terrified. 

 

"I-" 

 

Clarke glanced at the clock on her monitor. It wasn't even 2pm and she still had a lot of work to finish up before tomorrow.

 

"Yeah, okay," Clarke said finally, "I'll be down there in like twenty minutes, tops."

 

After a slight hesitation, Anya thanked Clarke. If Clarke wasn't terrified before, she definitely was then because Anya sounded nothing but sincere and genuine.

 

Another muffled "Clarke?" rang out in the background and Clarke heard Anya explain the situation before bringing the phone back to tell Clarke to buzz when she gets there and say goodbye.

 

Clarke ended the call and inhaled, shaky and shallow, as she tried to calm the churning in her gut. She packed up her belongings in a rush and stopped by Octavia's desk on her way out, a tap on the forearm to get the other woman's attention.

 

"Hey, I've gotta take off. If anyone asks, will you let them know i'm working from home for the rest of the day? Apartment emergency," Clarke explained.

 

Octavia peered up at her quizzically for a moment before nodding, "Sure."

 

"Thanks, O."

 

"Heda didn't show up for a meeting today, and no one's heard from her." 

 

Octavia's words came tentatively, quietly, just as Clarke was starting to walk away. She turned back.

 

"Mmm," Clarke offered, "That's not like her."

 

"No, it's not," Octavia agreed before swiveling back toward her laptop, "It'd be great if she would email Jaha. He's getting worried."

 

"Yeah, I'm sure she will. Very soon."

 

Octavia nodded, "Good."

 

Clarke squeezed Octavia's shoulder and made her way out of the office, ordering a Lyft as she walked. She made it down to Lexa's building without incident, and Anya wordlessly ushered Clarke into the apartment as she pulled on her jacket.

 

"She's in her room, being absolutely pathetic," Anya explained, picking up her bag, "I gave her two more Advil when we hung up, but I only got her to choke down like half a glass of juice."

 

"Anya." 

 

Pathetic was definitely the right word for the voice that filtered through the apartment. 

 

"Is Clarke here yet?" Lexa croaked. 

 

"Yeah, she just got here," Anya called, "And I'm leaving for work now. Feel better."

 

A gravely sound that might've been "thanks" greeted their ears.

 

"Doctor should be here anytime now," Anya said.

 

"Got it," Clarke replied as she kicked off her shoes next to the door.

 

"Clarke," Anya said on her way out, and Clarke was startled by how serious she sounded, "Thank you for coming."  

 

Clarke nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She watched Anya leave and locked up behind the other woman before making her way to Lexa's bedroom. Lexa laid sprawled out in the middle of her bed, eyes closed and mouth open. Clarke watched her chest rise and fall for a few quiet moments. Finally, Lexa's eyes fluttered open.

 

"Clarke," she said, her lips curling up into a lazy smile, "You're here."

 

"I'm here," Clarke agreed. 

 

"Could you lay with me?"

 

"Of course," Clarke said.

 

She dropped her bag beside the bed and crawled up next to Lexa.

 

"Hi," she said once she was settled.

"Hi," Lexa replied as she curled up on her side to face Clarke.

 

"How’re you feeling?"

 

"Really good," Lexa said earnestly.

 

"Liar."

 

"I do," Lexa insisted,"I feel good now."

 

"Uh huh," Clarke smiled, deciding not to point out how Lexa's voice was cracking at every other word.

 

"How was dinner with your mother?" Lexa asked.

 

"It was fine," Clarke said, "Actually I thought about what you said; I tried to think more from her point of view. I even cut her a little slack."

 

"Oh yeah?"

 

"Yeah, it was good."

 

"Good," Lexa agreed drowsily and burrowed into Clarke's side.

 

"Hey, can you unlock your phone for me before you fall asleep sweetie?" Clarke asked, brushing some hair out of Lexa face, "I need to email Jaha for you."

 

"Oh, Jaha," Lexa said, starting to sit up with difficulty, “We have a meeting.”

 

“ _ Had _ ,” Clarke correctly Lexa while gently stopping her from getting up, “But it’s okay. I’ll tell him you’re sick.”

 

"You can’t do that," Lexa frowned, "You’re not supposed to be here."

 

"I’m not going to say I’m me, okay? It’s just an email."

 

"Right," Lexa said, settling down and digging her phone out from under the blankets, "I will dictate."

 

Clarke rolled her eyes.

 

"Sure, Lex."

 

Lexa rambled out several half-formed sentences of an apology, many of which actually mentioned Clarke. Clarke, meanwhile, tuned her out, instead checking Lexa's sent mail folder for a recent message to Jaha. She found one easily and copied the phrasing and syntax as best she could. 

 

"Okay," Lexa said as her babble came to an end, "Read it back to me when you’re done."

 

_ Thelonius, _

_ Many apologies for missing our meeting today. I’ve come down with what appears to be the flu, and have been incapacitated since yesterday. Can we reschedule for later this week? _

_ Thank you, _

_ Lexa _

 

"Good?" Clarke asked.

 

"Yes, perfect," Lexa nodded, businesslike even in her pajamas, "Thank you."

 

Clarke sent the email and put Lexa's phone down on her bedside table, picking up a glass of juice instead.

 

"Will you drink some of this please?" Clarke asked.

 

Lexa's face wrinkled in disgust, but took the offered glass anyway. She choked down a few sips, coughing dramatically as she handed the juice back to Clarke. Clarke laughed to herself as Lexa cuddled into her arm.  _ Of course Ms. Tough-as-nails is the worst patient in the world. _

 

The doctor came and went within the next twenty minutes, confirming that Lexa did, in fact, have the flu. She prescribed plenty of rest, fluids, and a steady stream of over-the-counter pain relievers to keep Lexa comfortable. Clarke thanked her and walked her out, as Lexa barely woke up for the visit at all.

 

Clarke spent the next several hours working on her laptop from Lexa's bed while the other woman dozed fitfully. She messaged on and off with Octavia, letting her friend know that she was with Lexa and had reached out to Jaha. Octavia passed on her wishes for a speedy recovery and an offer to drop off any necessary supplies that Clarke was still considering taking her up on. 

 

She also texted Anya to inform her of the diagnosis, to which Anya replied: duh. Clarke rolled her eyes. Part of her wanted to remind Anya of how worried she had sounded just hours earlier, but figured the backlash would outweigh any momentary satisfaction Clarke would get out of it. She was about to put her phone away when Anya sent one more message, letting Clarke know that she had the next day off work and could relieve Clarke in the morning. 

 

Lexa finally woke up in the early evening, her eyes bleary and her lips cracked and dry.

 

"You're still working?" Lexa rasped.

 

"I was just finishing something up," Clarke answered.

 

Truth be told, she had mostly been messing around for the past half an hour or so. She closed up her laptop and set it on the floor.

 

"I'm sorry you have to work so much."

 

Clarke shook her head, "It's not your fault."

 

"It's not?" Lexa asked, frowning, "I think it kind of is."

 

"Well, not directly, at least."

 

"Hm," Lexa said noncommittally. 

 

Clarke laughed, but Lexa continued to look very concerned.

 

"They've got you working on the Nike pitch?" 

 

"Yeah," Clarke inched down the bed to get level with Lexa, "It just kicked off this morning."

 

"It's a big one," Lexa remarked, still frowning.

 

"Yup."

 

"Hm," Lexa said again.

 

Clarke narrowed her eyes at Lexa's odd behavior.

 

"I feel like you want to say something else."

 

"No, sorry," Lexa said, shaking her head, "My brain just feels slow and fuzzy."

 

Clarke took her at her word, but couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Lexa wasn't being fully forthcoming. She pushed a few strands of hair that had been sweat-stuck to Lexa's cheek behind her ear. 

 

"Let's get you some more Advil," Clarke said, "And maybe some soup."

 

Clarke smoothed down a few more wild pieces of hair and pressed the back of her hand against the warm and clammy skin of Lexa's forehead. 

 

"Clarke?" Lexa whispered.

 

Clarke's gaze snapped to Lexa's eyes, and she realized the other woman had been staring at her. She hummed in response.

 

"I-" Lexa started, stopped, and swallowed thickly before continuing, "Would you stay tonight? I feel better when you're here."

 

"I was already planning on it," Clarke replied and kissed Lexa near her temple, "You just relax, okay?"

 

Lexa nodded, her eyes blinking shut as she shifted closer to Clarke, the two women barely taking up any space on Lexa's sprawling mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeyyyy, so, I know it's been a minute - or several minutes, even - and I have no excuse! Just know that I haven't abandoned this story and am still planning on seeing it through, however long it takes. Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my friend Valerie for reading this and leaving me nice comments. I already have a bunch of chapters written, so I’ll probably update every week or every other week. Thanks for reading.


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